At Least Not the Sweet Kind
by Paceismyhero
Summary: A/U multi-POV fic where Rachel is getting ready to drop her first mainstream album and to shed her Broadway stigma, she's set up with Sam, a major pop star who needs a gimmick if he wants to stay in the limelight. It would all be so simple if Sam wasn't interested in her roommate, Santana, and Rachel didn't like Sam's manager, Puck. Rated M for language and then more later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'll try not to babble too much (I tend to do that in these notes, so I won't be offended if you just down to the actual update), but I just want to thank everyone in advance for reading. I'm not going to be able to update as quick as I used to back in the good ol' days, but I promise not to leave y'all hanging. This story sprang out of a song I heard on the radio one day and then never heard again (don't you hate that?!). I was worried it was some stupid boy band, and then it oddly turned out to be a punk wannabe kind of thing, which was even weirder considering. The title is kind of a clue since it is some of the lyrics, but I don't want to tell the song because I plan to make it pretty vital to the story.

The story, as the summary mentions, is completely A/U but hopefully in character (with some added maturity since everyone is a bit older). Everything that you need to know about people's backgrounds will eventually be told. Right now, please just enjoy the web I have woven, and let me know what you think (even if you hate it)! Thanks so much!

* * *

Simple chords from an acoustic guitar echoed in the room, accompanied only by an occasional frustrated sigh from Sam as he scratched out the words he'd just jotted down. He'd looked up from his stack of crumbled pieces of paper a few times, staring at Puck like he could do something to help, but Puck really couldn't. He couldn't come up with a melody without any lyrical direction. And, even if he could, he didn't get paid enough to try. In fact, if Sam's writing block continued, Puck might not be getting paid ever again.

"That's not funny, Puck," Sam groaned at the sound of the _Jeopardy_ theme coming from Puck's guitar. He raised his hands up high to stretch, exhausted from staring at the same fragmented half-sentence for the past twenty minutes. He sort of just fell into this line of work, and he'd just assumed it would always be that easy. "Why are you even here if you aren't going to help?"

"You're my only client," Puck said pointedly, his eyebrows raised. "Or don't you remember the diva trip you pulled on me last year?"

Sam mumbled something about friendship and loyalty before going back to writing (or trying to write). Puck simply rolled his eyes, but stopped playing on his guitar. He couldn't very well leave, and if Sam needed it quiet to write, then Puck would be quiet. After all, if Sam's block continued much longer, then Puck might have to hawk his guitar to pay rent. No one would hire him again, for sure, after failing to manage one career that seemed brighter than the sun a year ago.

"You know what you need?"

"I'm not getting drunk with you."

Puck frowned at the instant reply. "That's not what I was gonna say."

"Really?" Sam looked up skeptically.

"Ya need a good lay." Puck smirked at the blonde's exasperated sigh. "It will loosen ya up."

"I don't need to be loose." Sam continued talking before the obvious joke could fall from Puck's lips. "I need to finish a damn song before the label drops both of us!"

The room got eerily quiet, the words resting heavily on each of them. It was the truth, after all. Sam was the hottest name in the game last year, but his crazed fan base had the attention span of a gnat. Boy bands were coming back and the hip-hop scene was starting to take over in pop culture again. Sam needed to get back out there or his fifteen minutes of fame would be up and they'd both be out of a job.

"Look, just … take a break or whatever. Clear your head." Puck stood. "I'mma do somethin' real quick, then we'll work on it together."

Sam nodded pathetically, pushing away from the table and walking out of the room with slumped shoulders. Puck moved to the corner of the large office, sitting behind his desk and pulling up his contacts. Puck didn't go to school for his career like most others, but he wasn't stupid. He'd made connections and he knew exactly how he could buy Sam some time. Music wasn't the only way a performer stayed in the spotlight.

Puck quickly pulled up the name he'd been searching for, clearing his throat as the phone rang on speaker.

"Good afternoon, this is Valerie speaking. How might I assist you?"

"Hey, Val," Puck began smoothly, laying on the charm as best he could in such simple conversation. "Is Gabby in today or were you two girls out too late breaking hearts?"

Valerie giggled and participated in more back and forth than Puck had expected. He'd made a point not to sleep his way into a corner, but Valerie was definitely one of the chicks who always tried to get him to break that rule. It took some vague promising and faked enthusiasm before she finally transferred the call; it seemed like a small step, but in this business getting past the secretary was like crossing the last circle of Hell.

"And here I thought you were dead."

"Me or my career?"

"Same thing."

Puck chuckled, pushing down the actual lump of fear he could feel forming in his chest. Had word of Sam's writing block spread to other agencies already? Was it in the media? He really needed to roam the Internet more. "I need a favor."

"Funny thing," she began, in that same fast-talking, attractive way she always spoke.

Gabby was a lot like Puck in that she used her appearance to push her way through a lot of the business' barriers, but she also had the brains to back up everything else. It was frustrating as hell because she could talk him into doing shit without him even realizing it, and he could never figure out if it was because she was that good at her job or because she looked that good in her outfits. Probably a little of both.

"I was actually going to call you about a favor."

"I thought we talked about this. Let's just stay friends," Puck joked, mostly because he didn't want to seem desperate. Anything Gabby had for him would buy him/Sam at least a month. "What's up?"

"Got this girl. Super amazing, super hot, super new."

"Background?"

"Broadway, but …"

"Bitch."

Puck sighed. This wasn't his first rodeo. Gabby's hard sell couldn't hide the fact that this super amazing, super hot, super new vocalist was also a super snob. Broadway folks never made it mainstream, mostly because they all had diva attitudes and terrible personalities. If you sound like shit in the media, it won't matter how amazing you sound in the studio.

"She's incredible, Puck. An easy sell."

"Then why do you need a favor?"

"I don't need anything."

Puck closed his eyes, forgetting he'd been the one to call her. There weren't many allies in this business and even less when there was a target on your back. Sam's empire was seconds away from collapsing and everyone knew it. And no one was dumb enough to willingly board a sinking ship. Not without the hope of a life preserver.

"I was going to call you for your benefit. Your Ken doll is one reality show away from falling off the face of the earth completely, and I just thought I'd help you out so I'm not interviewed on one of those Behind the Music specials when one or both of you die of depression."

"Sunny picture, Gabs." Puck quickly considered his options, and then realized he didn't have any. "What's the plan?"

"I need her name in a different scene. The musical nerds are not the demographic we're going for. She needs to hit a younger, hipper audience."

"Like Sam's."

"Right. I figure we start small, have them meet at a public place somewhere for coffee. Let the tabs dip their toes in the dating rumors before we up the ante however we see fit."

"How long?" There was a pause, so Puck changed his question. "When does her record drop?"

"Two months."

Puck sighed heavily, figuring it was a month better than he thought. Sam wasn't going to like it – he hated the politics of the business and Puck would probably have to listen to yet another long-winded speech about the integrity of Sam's music – but this would give Puck time to think of something more long term. Or, pray to Jesus, enough time for Sam to pen a few songs and get his ass into the studio and on tour again.

"Let's do it," he finally agreed. "What's her name?"

"Rachel Berry."

"For real?" It sounded made up. And kind of hot. "She single?"

"What happened to your rules?"

Puck grinned. "Ain't nothing in the book about singers, babe."

"She's not a singer, Puckerman. She's a star."

"Is she in the room or what?" He scoffed.

"She's not available." Each word was punctuated purposefully. "She's seeing Sam."

"Right." Puck rolled his eyes. "Later, Gabs."

"You're welcome!"

Puck clicked the off button in frustration, tossing the phone onto his desk haphazardly before leaning back in his chair with his hands covering his face. When Sam had approached him about needing a manager and wanting Puck to do the job, he'd thought it would be easy. Hang out with his friend all the time, tour awesome places and sleep with groupies. If he'd known there was going to be so much work involved, he might have stuck with his pool cleaning business.

"Anything?"

Puck dropped his hands, eyeing his blonde friend. Sam looked refreshed, courtesy of either the fresh spring air or the iced coffee drink gripped in his left hand, but Puck knew better than to assume the good mood would last much longer.

"When's the last time you were in New York?"

"October?" Sam guessed. "Why?"

"Did you happen to see any shows?"

Sam started to frown, fed up with questions that he knew all too well were leading to something he wasn't going to like. "Get to your point, Puck."

"Have you ever heard of Rachel Berry?"

"No."

"Well ... you're dating her."

"Puck," Sam whined loudly, stomping closer to Puck's desk. "I'm getting so sick of this kind of crap! What did you do?"

"I'm buying us time, dude!" Puck snapped. "This chick is the next hot thing and your name attached to hers will give us at least two months to come up with something else. Or, I don't know, maybe write a fuckin' song!"

Sam bowed his head, burrowing his foot into the ground bashfully before looking back up. "You're right. I'm sorry." He laughed at the way Puck blinked in surprise. "What does she look like?"

Puck winced, realizing he'd just won a pretty big battle and now was going to be knocked out cold in the next round. "I don't know."

"Well find out," Sam demanded, moving back to his spot at the leather couch. "I'll just be over here writing a fuckin' song."

"Maybe," Puck joked right back, glad he and Sam had managed to somehow learn to stay friends while still working together (especially during these tough times). It had honestly been one of Puck's biggest concerns two years ago. He'd heard and seen too many stories about friends forming bands and then breaking up and never speaking to one another again. Puck had been popular in high school, but Sam had been his only real friend. They'd both used the other to hide their shitty home lives from the rest of the school, and in doing so bonded in a way that probably would never break.

And so far, it hadn't.

Puck moved his chair closer to his computer and pulled up a search engine. He typed in the new girl's name, surprised by the number of hits that were generated so quickly. The broad already had a ton of unofficial fan sites, and the chatter about her upcoming release was insane. She was apparently a huge tweeter, which Puck noted as a great way to exploit her and Sam's meetings. Hashtag cutest couple ever. Hashtag pop prince and princess.

The possibilities were endless.

"Fuck."

The obscenity slipped out before he could even try to censor it. His eyes were glued to the screen the second he'd clicked on the images tab, so he didn't even notice Sam move from across the room to directly behind him. Rachel Berry didn't just have a hot name, but a hot body. She was apparently well known for her red carpet style choices, and was on the cover of enough magazines recently that Puck wondered how he'd missed her for so long.

She had huge brown eyes, soulful in most pictures but completely sexy in others. Her hair was long and wavy, a deep chestnut that was the perfect contrast to her sun-kissed and seemingly smooth skin. Broadway had given her a tight, little frame that was so ridiculous when paired with her full, pouty lips that Puck legit couldn't help the impure thoughts that immediately coursed through his mind.

"My girlfriend is hot!"

Puck clicked through a few more photos, groaning low in his throat at one particularly risqué photo shoot that had her in high heels and low everything else. "She's way too hot for you."

"You're just jealous," Sam insisted, again moving back to his spot on the couch, but this time picking up his phone instead of the pen. "I'm going to follow her on Twitter."

"Don't be too obvious. We have to ease into this or people are gonna know it's bogus."

Sam smirked, his eyes lifting to look at Puck but his thumbs still poised on the mobile device. "Sure you don't want to stand behind me and tell me what to type?"

"Nah." Puck rolled his eyes, sliding back behind his desk and slumping down toward his laptop. "I'mma see if I can find any titty shots."

Sam laughed out loud, shaking his head. "Classy."

"Hey, it's for your benefit. You don't want your girlfriend to be a slut, right?"

"No, that's your type," Sam shot back, the two men chuckling at the comfortable conversation. It had been so tense lately with everything going on that it was nice to have moments when things didn't seem so dire. "Uh, she just tweeted about our date." Sam paused. "Apparently it is tomorrow."

"The fuck?" Puck pushed out of his seat, taking long strides to reach Sam quicker. He read the tweet, complete with cutesy smiley face and more exclamation points than necessary. "Chick's a freak."

"She called me a dreamboat."

Puck could hear the pride in Sam's voice. "You're pathetic."

"It's already being retweeted." Sam tilted his phone to show Puck the screen. "They're trying to get hashtag Samchel trending."

Puck rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the couch and walking back to his desk. He was torn between whether this was the worst idea he'd ever had or the best. And, once again – as he looked at the picture of Rachel spread out on a locker room bench with a sucker in her mouth and her eyes somehow staring right through him – he figured it was probably a little of both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Firstly, I need to say, "WOW". I honestly didn't expect that kind of reaction to this story, mostly because I'd thought the board felt a little dead lately. It's so nice to hear from so many people just to know the fandom is alive and kicking, but it is REALLY nice when y'all are psyched for my new piece! So, thank you so much for the support!

I'm going to try to stick to the once-a-week update, unless I go on some writing frenzy and finish this with lots of chapters to go (right now I'm working on chapter 5 and still haven't gotten to any of the planned chaos or even the meat of the story. So, yea. No end in sight at the moment!). I hadn't realized I posted on a Friday or I would have done this earlier because I am so excited for you guys to get another piece of the puzzle, this one still laying the groundwork for the characters and what is to be expected (at least a little).

Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing (please review! Even if you want to pick the entire thing apart and tell me everything awful about it ... I'm always up for suggestions and constructive criticism!). Enjoy!

* * *

Rachel sat nervously at the small, cast-iron bistro table hidden by the large tree to her left and overlooking the beautiful fountain in the center of the park. Her knees were locked together, her heels tapping anxiously as she watched people continue to pass by her. Everyone seemed happier in the spring, rejuvenated by the gleam of the fallen rain on the budding plants and bushes. She, on the other hand, was twisting the hem of her skirt between her fingers and trying to find an unfamiliar face in a sea of strangers.

She didn't know why she felt so uneasy. She was used to pretending to be on a more meaningful level with people who, sometimes, she had no recollection of at all. Despite the fact that her name was widely known, Rachel couldn't remember or possibly recognize everyone who knew her. She did, however, need to act graciously and try her best. Her exposure in the business was growing more and more every day, and the last thing she needed was people to assume she was stuck up; she already had to fight that opinion based on her previous career.

Maybe that was why she was nervous. She was sitting here waiting for someone she'd never met, but whose opinion and interaction with her meant more than all her work on Broadway. Sam Evans had catapulted himself into the pop culture scene less than two years ago with nothing more than incredibly catchy (and lyrically sound) music and All-American looks. There were rumors that he was on a downward spiral, which might be why Gabby set up this rouse to begin with, but Rachel just thought that made Sam's insight even more valuable. He was a prime example of how fickle this world could be, and Rachel needed to learn how to avoid those landmines.

"Rachel?"

Her head darted up, her eyes widening for a moment before she gasped and stood abruptly. "I apologize. I was … I'm sorry. Hello!"

"Hey." Sam grinned, accepting her hand and shaking it gently before taking the seat across from her. His eyes roamed over the half of her body not covered up by the table, then around the perimeter of the park to see who might have already noticed the pair. "You seem nervous."

"Is it that obvious?" Rachel sighed out a laugh, using her hands to push her hair back behind her shoulders before placing them on the table. "Now I feel even more foolish."

Sam shook his head, shrugging one shoulder as he moved his own hand to cover hers. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, and each of their eyes watched the motion as if it were the newest blockbuster deserving of their attention. "Don't."

She laughed at how simple he made it seem, her eyes eventually lifting to look at him. His hair was spiked up a little with gel and the color of his polo shirt seemed to make his eye color pop. She'd seen he'd dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and flip flops, and she tried not to overanalyze whether she'd dressed too formally for their pseudo date. She was wearing heels and a nicer blouse, but the skirt was flowy and not nearly as sleek as what she'd typically wear on a date.

She was going for sexy, flirty (at least that's what Kurt had called it).

"So, tell me a little somethin' about you."

Rachel smiled bashfully. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know." He leaned back casually, cradling the back of his head in his hands. "Stuff a boyfriend would know, I guess."

She felt some of her nervousness melt away courtesy of his carefree, easy expression. "I grew up in Ohio. I moved to New York for college and dropped out after the first semester for a role on Off-Broadway." Rachel scrunched her nose; she needed to tell him things that wouldn't be under _Early Career_ on Wikipedia. Boyfriend details. "I am obsessed with coffee. I have at least four cups a day."

"It's only two. Which number is this?" He asked, gesturing to the large cup sitting directly in front of her.

"Three." She bit the corner of her lip. "Ironically enough, it calms me down." She blew out a nervous breath. "I know I appeared confident and possibly enticing through Twitter, but I must confess that I was quite opposed to this at the beginning." She started to play with the sleeve covering her coffee cup. "My music is very personal to me and I don't want to cheapen its value by promoting it in less than professional manners."

Sam nodded in complete understanding. "You sound exactly like me." He tilted his head to the side, his smile lopsided, too. "Well, those wouldn't have been my _exact_ words …"

"I know." Rachel sighed, her smile reflecting his. "Everyone tells me to not be so verbose, but I'm afraid it is in my nature. I think it might be because I was an only child."

"That makes sense. I have a younger brother and a younger sister."

"I actually knew that." Rachel blushed deeply. "I have another confession." She looked down at the table, her fingers dancing over the hard metal to occupy her mind and body. "I finally agreed not because it was the right decision for my career, but … I'm actually a huge fan."

"Really?" Sam blinked in surprise, sitting up a little straighter. He felt underdressed and now way too casual. Why did he listen to Puck? "You're not exactly my demographic."

"I know, and honestly I don't own any of your albums – I've purchased select songs on iTunes – but, when that interview with _Rolling Stone_ came out and you expressed so passionately how much your music meant to you and how you'd never have a song on your record that you didn't at least help write." She shrugged, blushing still when she looked back up at him. "You're a genuine artist. And that's what I want to be."

"Well, careful." Sam leaned back in the chair, shaking his head. "It can come back to bite you in the ass."

She frowned slightly. "Is the writer's block that bad?"

"We're sitting here together in a last ditch attempt to save my career. So … yea."

Rachel nodded sadly, focusing again on her coffee as Sam seemed to stare blankly past her. She knew this business was tough – it was hard to get started, hard to stay noticed and hard to escape. Sam was the same age as she, not even thirty, and yet the bags under his eyes and the weariness in the orbs told a much darker story. It scared her to think her future might be as bleak as his, but she tried to push down that fear as much as she could.

"Perhaps we could do a duet together," she suggested. "It would give us a legitimate reason to spend more time together, which will give the press more to feed off of, and it will get us both writing."

"So I passed the test?"

Rachel giggled. "Should anyone ask me about our relationship status, I will smile coyly and state we are enjoying each other's company." She nodded once, as if that was her way of sealing the deal. "Although, my friend is going to be here in the next few minutes and she'll know the truth."

"You set up a getaway friend?" He asked, feigning offense.

"To be fair, it is standard date procedure. She's my wing man."

Sam's laughter faded away as the silhouette of a beautiful, Latin woman sauntered from one side of the park closer and closer. Her hips swayed dangerously and her hair blew in the wind in some kind of tantalizing dance to unheard music. Her lips were fire-engine red, matching the painted nails he could see as she approached the table. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't get a close enough look as her mesmerizing, smoky eyes were set on Rachel.

"I murdered our roommate and you need to take me to the police station immediately before I kill again."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You've had nearly two days and _that's_ the best you could come up with?"

"No." Santana shrugged. "But I saw your smile from the street so I figured ya didn't need me to save ya anyway." She turned her attention to Sam. "Fuck, you're hot."

Sam coughed at her introduction, if that's what it was. He wanted to say the same in return, but he was on a fake date with Rachel. He didn't know if the rules were different since it wasn't real, but he didn't want to find out the wrong way, either. Plus, if he had to choose between this Latina goddess and his career, he had to go with the latter, unfortunately.

"I apologize, Sam. Santana doesn't exactly have a filter."

"Santana?' Sam questioned, squinting his eyes a little. "As in Santana Lopez?"

"Eat your heart out."

"Santana and I went to high school together, and now I'm staying at her place since she's usually away modeling - mostly for Victoria Secret." Rachel explained, clearing up the confusion she could see playing on Sam's face. She turned and playfully glared at her friend. "The term angel is used loosely, believe me."

"Bitch." Santana walked to one of the vacant tables and dragged one of the chairs closer. She chose a spot just slightly closer to Sam than Rachel. "You've modeled before, too, right?"

"A little. Now mostly just for charity things."

"Rachel thinks it is degrading."

"I think prancing around in your underwear is degrading," she amended.

"Prude."

"I'm not a prude!" Rachel shot back, wondering why she still always felt like she was fifteen years old whenever talking with Santana. She knew partially it was because of the way Sam's eyes had boggled out of his head when he saw the Latina approaching. She was comfortable with her appearance (even her nose, despite what many people in the industry thought of it) and knew she was attractive. But her body didn't seem to command the same amount of attention her voice did … and sometimes she wished it did.

"No? Have you slept with anyone since Jesse?"

"Santana!" Rachel knew she'd turned an unnatural shade of red.

"What? You haven't!"

"I am mortified."

"I would be, too." Santana turned to Sam. "Could you go a year without sex?"

"I … um … well, uh … some … what?"

Sam tripped over his words, unsettled by Santana's brashness paired with her beauty. Typically anyone he was interested in fawned all over him, but she was like a bulldozer, plowing him into this odd territory where the wires in his brain crossed and his tongue felt like lead. "I _could_."

"Could what?"

"Go without sex for a year," Santana supplied despite the fact that she didn't know the man who had suddenly approached the table.

"Yeah right," Puck laughed. "Maybe if your hands were cut off."

"And now _I'm_ mortified." Sam sighed heavily, raising his hand to gesture to his manager. "Rachel, Santana, this is my friend and manager, Puck. Puck, this is Rachel and her friend Santana."

"Puck?" Both girls questioned at the same time.

"My getaway friend," Sam teased, winking at Rachel. "Although he only agreed to come so he could see you in person."

"Really?" Rachel perked up, her eyes closely examining the stranger that had moved to lean against the tree. He wore a pair of dark wash jeans and a concert T-shirt that fit all too well on his muscular frame. His chest and shoulders were broad, and he had a chiseled jawline that seemed too strong to hold such a lazy grin. If she had to describe him in a brief statement, she'd use the words devilishly handsome.

"The GQ photos, right?"

"Fuck. Yes."

Santana and Puck laughed together, the former looking at her friend. "I told you those were smokin'."

Rachel simply nodded, trying not to remember the huge fight those pictures had caused between her and Jesse. They'd already broken up by then, but he'd claimed she was threatening his career just by prior association. Rachel remembered crying the remainder of the evening, his harsh words regarding how she'd do anything – including sleep her way to the top – replaying in her mind over and over. Even now they were only faded, and the situation with Sam wasn't sitting well with her suddenly.

"I thought Sam and I could write a duet to perform together," she stated abruptly, her tone professional. "It will validate the time we are spending together, and hopefully help both of us musically as well."

"Sounds good." Puck nodded once. "I got you two tickets to a concert this weekend. VIP table, come in together, leave together."

"Finn?" Sam guessed based on Puck's posture.

"Finn Hudson?" Rachel asked excitedly, practically bouncing when the two men nodded. "I know him!"

"Everybody knows him, asshat," Santana sneered. "He's famous."

"He's the drummer. He's hardly famous," Puck pointed out.

"Don't mind him." Sam rolled his eyes. "He's still pissed Finn turned down the offer to be in my band."

"Oh my gosh! I completely forgot!" Rachel covered her mouth briefly, shaking her head enthusiastically. "It was a terribly tough decision for him, but it was a personal decision and ..."

"And Blaine is fuckin' the dude's brother."

"Don't be so crass, Santana. They're married."

"You're right." Santana stood up, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. "They're married, so they're _not_ fucking anymore." She smiled at the way Rachel sighed. "So if you're going with Blondie here, I guess I need to find a date now." Santana looked at Puck. "Pick me up at 7."

"Sorry, babe. You're not my type."

"Gay."

Puck scoffed, pushing off the tree and puffing out his chest a little. "Fuck that. I just don't do models." Then his expression changed in a flash, his eyes set on Rachel. "Now, singers …"

Rachel was flattered but caught off guard. She'd never been approached in such a forward manner. And certainly not by someone as attractive as Puck. Then again, he could just be playing his own part in whatever crazy game was going on between them. She knew Gabby had setup the whole thing with him, but then again he wasn't looking at her like a pawn. He looked at her as if she were his prey, like he was ready to pounce on her.

It both frightened at exhilarated her at the same time.

"Down boy," Sam intervened, also standing. "She's my girlfriend, remember?"

"Right." Puck nodded, winking at Rachel before Sam stepped in the way completely. "I should go anyway. Give you guys a chance to wow the photographers that have been waiting for you to make a move."

"I got it. I'll see ya at the studio tomorrow."

"You should come, too," Puck offered to Rachel, pushing Sam aside. "Help my boy write a song, like ya said."

Rachel nodded, the last to stand. "I'll check my schedule."

"I'll bring coffee," Sam persuaded.

Rachel giggled, nodding her head more. "In that case."

"Cool." Sam looked around unsteadily, then leaned in and brushed his lips against Rachel's cheek. She smiled coyly just as she said she would, whispering a goodbye and watching him leave with Puck before turning back to face her friend. "What?"

"Please. Why didn't you just ask if you could sit on his face?"

"Santana!" Rachel shrieked, lifting her eyes in exasperation as she grabbed her cup of coffee and started to walk the way home. "I told you. Gabby set this whole thing up for appearances."

"I wasn't talking about Sam. Your fuckin' eyes were glued to Puck the whole time." She threw her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Leave the blonde to me."

"Santana, remember what I told you. For all intents and purposes, Sam is my boyfriend. Don't create drama in my fake relationship!"

"Tellin' me he's off limits isn't going to help matters."

"He's not off limits. You just … need to be subtle."

Santana scoffed and the two laughed together. Santana was as subtle as a heart attack, and probably photographed even more than Sam or any other local celebrity thanks to her career and her antics. Hiding in the background wasn't an option for her, and Rachel knew better than to assume she'd even consider the role. Instead, Rachel needed a distraction.

"I think I know someone perfect for you."

"No way. The last guy you set me up with was a nightmare."

"I hardly think Finn should count," Rachel reasoned. "That was years ago."

"Because I vowed to never let you find me a date again."

Rachel rolled her eyes, not wanting to go down the rocky memory lane that was Santana and Finn's relationship. Honestly, Rachel set the two up in college just to distract herself from her own lingering feelings for Finn. The two of them did the back and forth all through high school and Rachel wanted to move on. Every time she felt like she could, he would do or say something that made her open her arms right back up to him. Santana was like a mountain between the two of them, adding distance so neither could come crawling back.

Unfortunately, Santana and Finn had also had an on and off again relationship, ending when Finn finally got fed up with the Latina. He was looking for something more – more intimate, more stable. He found it in one of Rachel and Santana's best friends, who just happened to be the girl he'd always gone back to in high school, too. Leaving out all the drama in the timeline, it was a cute story for Finn and Quinn.

"In fact, I think it's your turn."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm making it my mission to get Puck."

"And that's for my benefit?" Rachel asked, her jaw clenching on its own accord.

"If I can get him to the apartment, then he's free game for you. No papz to see you cheat on your fake boyfriend."

"Santana, that's …"

"Genius. I know." The Latina kissed Rachel's cheek and then grabbed her hand, swinging it between the two of them as they crossed the street on their way back home. "You can thank me later."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I know this story is having sort of a slow build up, but ... well ... I didn't want them to just fall into bed with each other (despite how fun that is). Haha. I hope you guys are enjoying the layered plot, and I promise the chaos/fun is right around the corner! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and let me know what you think! P.S. If the formatting is crazy, I apologize. Somethin' is funky with this program and using Google Drive, I think. *shrugs*

* * *

It wasn't unusual for Puck to be late. He hated waking up in the morning (and sometimes in the early afternoon), LA was crowded as fuck and he never liked taking orders from anyone - even a clock. So when he strolled into the studio building and saw those already working giving him that typical look, he simply brushed it off. He wasn't going to feel bad because he had something better to do with his time, which in this case was sleep in because it was Friday and he needed the extra rest for going out later.

Tomorrow was basically a work night, as he would be supervising Sam and Rachel's fake date. He had to make sure the right people saw the two of them together, so there was no chance he'd actually be able to score a hot chick for himself to take home. It's not that it would take long, but Puck already knew he wasn't going to be in the best of moods watching that no-good ogre drum along to some gay boy-band wannabe. Tonight, however, was free play.

"Hey," Sam greeted unexpectedly, his laughter from whatever he and Rachel were talking about before Puck walked in dying down. "Better late than never."

"I didn't realize we were starting staring at the blank piece of paper at the ass crack of dawn today." Puck took the extra coffee cup from the travel holder, tipping it toward Sam. "My bad."

Sam ignored the comment. "Rachel, you remember my manager, Puck."

"Yes," Rachel bit the bottom of her lip, hoping to hide her embarrassment as Santana's words from yesterday echoed in her mind. She didn't want to ogle him, certainly not after such a hostile greeting. "Hello again."

Puck grunted in return, causing Rachel to frown. Sam shrugged it off as if Puck's attitude was acceptable, and since she was on their turf she was forced to allow it. Ten minutes of him banging around at his desk and mumbling obscenities to himself, however, started to grate on her nerves. She turned away from Sam sharply, narrowing her eyes on Puck from across the room.

"I apologize, but your behavior is quite rude."

"S'cuse me?"

"We are trying to work, and your negative aura is hindering our progress."

Puck stared at the brunette like she had two heads, moving his gaze to Sam. The two shared a look the two friends had perfected over the years, one where Sam begged Puck not to say anything and Puck thought Sam was an idiot for thinking that were possible. "Now it makes sense."

"What does?" Rachel asked, a hint of annoyance laced in her tone.

"Gabby's favor."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Puck, maybe …" Sam tried to interrupt, but Puck wasn't going to stop now.

"You were too perfect on paper. Super talented, super hot …" Puck smirked. "Super crazy."

Rachel gasped at his audacity. "You think I'm crazy? Based solely on the fact that I found your incessant cursing and discourteousness distracting and unnecessary?"

"That and the use of about twelve unneeded syllables in any given sentence," Puck joked, chuckling to himself a little. "I'm used to women finding me distracting, Princess, but I ain't never had any of them complain about the aura."

"Perhaps they didn't want to use a word they couldn't spell."

Sam chuckled at Rachel's comeback, unable to help himself. "She's got a point, man."

Puck scoffed. "You're just trying to get on her good side so you can screw her friend."

Rachel gasped, turning to again face Sam. His face was turning redder by the second, and his mouth just opened and closed as he went back and forth between arguing with Puck and giving her an explanation. She threw him a bone. "Is that true? Do you like Santana?"

"I … uh …"

"Sam, it's fine." Rachel giggled. "We're not actually dating."

Sam breathed out heavily, laughing a little himself. "I know." He still felt bad, shrugging one shoulder emptily. "I mean, I guess. She was … I don't know. Did she say anything about me?"

"Dude. Show some respect." Puck shook his head. "This is high school all over again."

"At least we've graduated to high school after your toddleresque tantrums," Rachel shot back, not even bothering to turn and look him in the eye as she insulted him. "I refuse to repeat the things she said to me about you, but she was definitely interested."

"Really?"

"I must warn you, though. Santana is not … she doesn't really … she can be …"

"Hit it and quit it?" Puck supplied, finally earning Rachel's full attention again. "What? Just a guess."

"It's a terrible euphemism."

"Don't make it any less true. 'Sides, they're just words, babe."

"They're very one-dimensional words." Rachel argued. "Santana shouldn't be labeled by one aspect of her life."

"Why not?" Puck leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. He couldn't quite figure out why, but he really enjoyed pissing this girl off. She was even hotter all riled up, and it was actually fun to go at it with a girl who knew how to use her mouth for other things. Although that was not to say he wouldn't be down for her showing him what else she could do with it. "Isn't that what you're doing to me?"

"How so?"

"You've been judging me since I walked in this morning. You don't know where I was or what I was doing beforehand, yet because I fucked with your air or whatever, you jumped up my butt."

Rachel cocked her head to the side, considering his words at face value. There was a chance she'd been the rude one, asking him to leave his own office because he seemed to be in a bad mood when perhaps the more polite thing to do would have been to ask what had put him in the bad mood to begin with. She imagined his job was stressful, more so since Sam was under fire. He was still a practical stranger, too, so she had no idea what his home life consisted of or what he did with his free time. And yet …

"What were you doing, then?"

Puck smirked, seeing the challenge in her eye. "Sleeping. But that ain't the point."

Rachel actually laughed, conceding the argument with a nod. She rolled her eyes as she turned back to focus on Sam, who also was chuckling at the exchange. Before Puck had arrived, they had been figuring out what kind of song to try to write, discussing tempos and emotions and situations that could provoke a nice melody. It hadn't been long enough to work on any real lyrics, but it was the most productive Sam had been in the studio since he'd finished his first album more than a year ago.

"Perhaps we should continue our work elsewhere," she suggested once Puck simply went back to whatever he was doing on the computer. "Somewhere quiet."

"No fuckin' at the office."

"Puck! Christ!"

"What?" He said innocently. "It was your rule!"

"It wasn't for me, though."

"For the last time, I didn't know anyone was in the building."

"That's why they call the rooms soundproof, Puck." Sam rolled his eyes, gathering the few things in front of him and Rachel before standing. "Let's go to the music room."

Puck watched the two leave, trying to convince himself that he was glad they were leaving. Together. He hadn't even wanted to come in today, but since Sam was here then he figured he had to be, too. Now he was just alone in his office and actually missing the back and forth between him and Rachel. She was crazy, sure, but it was kind of hilarious. And since he couldn't tap it, he was thankful she was at least funny.

He finished writing a couple of emails and put some anonymous comments and such on heavy traffic areas online, then went to the music room on the other side of the building. It was the only one open for the entire week, which was good for the label but not great for any spontaneity. Plus, it was a long walk that Puck wasn't sure was worth it considering he had no reason to crash Sam and Rachel's twosome other than he was bored. He knew Sam needed to write, but he was hungry and needed to get some breakfast (well, lunch considering the time) before he died.

"Come in."

Puck turned the knob after knocking, poking his head inside only to find Rachel sitting at the piano in the corner by herself. "Where's Sam?"

"Phone call," she answered absently, repeating the notes she'd just played in a different key.

"Lose the second to last note." Puck nodded at her when she just glared at him, then smiled when she tried the melody with his suggestion. "See?"

"Do you play?" Rachel asked, writing down the sequence of notes as possible options for her and Sam's duet. When she turned back to face him, Puck was moving to sit next to her at the bench. She inhaled sharply, the immediate tension she'd felt disappearing as the intoxicating aroma of whatever cologne he was wearing spread through her. She could feel the warmth of his body seer at her side, and she did her best to cover up the involuntary shiver by reaching up and tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"Ma thought it was classy. She always wanted me to be more cultured." Puck smirked, playing a few bars of a classic rock song. "Apparently the Mohawk and electric guitar were frowned upon at the country club we'd never been invited to."

Rachel giggled at the image, her eyes drifting to his cropped hairline. "She must be proud of you now."

"I guess." Puck shrugged. "She's not exactly career minded. Fuck, I ain't either."

"I've known exactly what I wanted to do with my life since I think I was born." Rachel snorted out a laugh; even she could admit that sounded crazy. "I was dancing before I could walk. I sang _Don't Rain on my Parade_ in a competition when I was only four years old."

"I saw the clip on YouTube."

Rachel sighed. "My fathers put that up when I got my first Broadway offer. They didn't know it was a public site."

"Sounds like somethin' my mom would do." He added a few notes to the keys she'd just played. "Wait, fathers?"

"I'm adopted." Rachel looked at him through the corners of her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. "Didn't you do any research?"

"Google Images was about all I could handle, babe."

She rolled her eyes, hoping the veil of her hair would hide her blushing cheeks. "Perhaps you would have known I was crazy beforehand had you done your due diligence."

"S'okay." He bumped her shoulder. "I like surprises."

Rachel giggled lightly, both her and Puck's eyes moving to the door as Sam returned. Neither stopped playing the piano though, and Sam instantly was intrigued by the tune they'd created. It even trumped the fact that the two of them looked particularly close, and neither minding one bit.

"What is this?"

"It's called a piano, dude."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious, but I was talking about the melody. Is that yours or a song I don't recognize."

"Neither." Puck stopped playing. "I was just fuckin' around." Sam lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise, and Puck shot him an equally obvious look. "Shut up."

Sam chuckled, surrendering a little as he stepped closer. "It was good."

"Whatever." Puck stood from the piano, shrugging off the compliment and the confused looks from both Sam and Rachel. "I only came 'cause I'm starving. You want something?"

Sam looked back to Rachel in question, who took that as her own cue. "I actually need to leave if I'm going to make it to my other appointment." She picked up her purse and gathered her notepad before turning back to again face the boys. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be out front at eight."

Rachel nodded and made her way to the door, turning when Puck said, "Wear something sexy."

"Such as?"

"That's good." Puck pointed to her current outfit, which was just a pair of jeans, some boots, and a fitted T-shirt under a blazer. "Or nothing."

Sam shook his head and bemoaned, "Noah Puckerman, ladies and gentlemen."

"Your name is Noah?" Rachel pushed against the door to prop it open, her attention solely on Puck/Noah.

"Yep." Puck grinned, coming over to hold the door open for her. "Didn't you do your research?"

Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes before tossing Sam a wave and finally leaving. Puck absently waited until she was out of sight before letting the door fall closed, turning his attention back to Sam. The blonde was looking at him very suspiciously, which Puck knew could only mean one of two things. And because he knew his friend, he knew it had nothing to do with the music. With Sam, it was always about the girl.

"Don't go there," he forewarned, walking out of the music room and back toward the office.

"You gave me a lot of shit for liking Santana when you're all up in Rachel's business."

"I was just waitin' for you to get back."

"You were sitting awfully close."

Puck tried to close his office door in Sam's face, but the blonde just walked through with him. "Listen, Samantha. That girl is the one thing keeping us out of the unemployment line. So, yeah. I ain't gonna be a dick."

Sam rolled his eyes, wondering how long it would take his friend to admit he liked Rachel. Much like Santana (apparently), Puck was not known for his success in relationships. He'd only ever had one serious relationship that Sam knew of, and she'd messed him up pretty bad - though the details were still kind of foggy since Puck refused to talk about it. Regardless, whatever happened cemented him back into his earlier ways, a sex shark who was much more interested in quantity over quality. And Sam didn't know Rachel too well, but he could guess that she wasn't the type of girl who would partake in a one-night stand.

"Just as well. She's out of your league."

"What does that mean?"

Sam winced. "Nothing. Nevermind."

"If I wanted her, I could have her."

"Of course," Sam placated, back pedaling as hard as he could. It wasn't that he didn't believe Puck. The problem was he knew it was the truth, and Puck pursuing Rachel would just ruin everything. "I just meant she doesn't seem your type."

Puck narrowed his gaze on his friend, considered his words and obvious anxiety. Sam knew better than to challenge Puck; they used to do it all the time when they were younger and Puck was batting 100%. He never backed down, and he never lost. And even though the stakes were a little higher this time – paparazzi, careers on thin ice, etc. – Puck couldn't ignore the adrenaline that coursed through him.

"We'll see."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Reviews for the last chapter were kind of low, so hopefully I haven't lost too many readers during the buildup. To those who are sticking it out, thank you and ... let the games begin!

* * *

Rachel stared at her reflection in the mirror, evaluating her hair and makeup after some minor adjustments. The club was extremely crowded and after taking a few spins on the dance floor, her appearance was in dire need of some touching up. Plus, the bathroom acted as a sanctuary of sorts, the pounding of the music and the screams of the fans muted by the four walls.

"Broadway?"

"Kurt!" Rachel instantly chastised. "This is the _women's_ restroom."

Kurt simply rolled his eyes and walked in further, leaning his back against the sink next to the one Rachel was currently standing in front of. "Like I'd be caught dead in the men's room. Yuck." He made a face that matched his statement, showing off his gay a little as he checked himself out in the mirror from the corner of his eye and quickly swept his bangs to the side. "I got bored sitting with Thing 1 and Thing 2, so I came looking for you."

"I understand you have still yet to forgive Santana completely, but what do you have against Sam?" Kurt only scoffed, making Rachel sigh in exasperation. "You can't possibly still be upset about losing that idiotic bet with Blaine?"

"Just because he's dating women doesn't mean he's not gay," Kurt stated firmly. "I will demand that twenty dollars back from my husband the second Mr. Evans shows his true colors."

Rachel rolled her eyes, settling for moving her attention back to the mirror to again check her appearance. "I wouldn't hold your breath. He's quite smitten with Santana."

"And that doesn't bother you in the least?" Kurt bent down to check for feet in the stalls, wanting to make sure they were alone in the bathroom before continuing. "I understand he's your fake boyfriend, but …"

Rachel shrugged off Kurt's inquiry, not wanting to think too much about it. While she thought Sam was cute and got along with him well enough to already consider him a friend, their arrangement was a business deal. His wandering eye was nothing personal, and she was pretty used to guys looking past her to get a better view of Santana. If it still bothered her after more than ten years, then _that_ would be a problem.

"What?" She asked when she finally turned back to look at Kurt, who had a wide grin on his face.

"You seem to be primping a lot for someone who you don't care is basically having phone sex without the phone with your best friend and roommate." Kurt chuckled, following Rachel as she retreated out of the restroom. "This wouldn't have anything to do with someone whose name rhymes with _Fuck_ is it?"

Rachel gasped. "Kurt Hummel-Anderson!" She looked at her friend with sternness, but eventually gave in to his jovial expression. "His name happens to be Noah, and he's not even here."

"So you've noticed."

Rachel shook her head, not knowing why she ever thought she'd win with him. Engaging him was a lose-lose situation, and now that she'd offered up even the minutest of details, there was no going back. She couldn't even rely on Santana to help her out, as she'd been the one to spill the beans about Sam's attractive manager in the first place when Rachel had been talking to Kurt on speaker phone last week.

"I'm not going to waste my time trying to explain this to you, especially not now," she practically screamed, forced to yell over the music the closer they walked back toward the front of the building. "Please be respectful of my fake date!"

Kurt just shrugged, following her to the corner VIP table where Santana and Sam were talking, though much closer than they had been when Rachel had left. Rachel slid in next to Sam, who rightfully moved away from Santana. The Latina and Kurt shared a look before Santana got up and left, not mentioning where she was going or if she'd be back.

"Long story," Rachel loudly mumbled, seeing the questions in Sam's eyes.

The blonde nodded, moving his eyes over Rachel. "You look good."

"Thanks." Rachel blushed, avoiding Kurt's stare that she could feel on the side of her head. "It's been awhile since I've been to a concert. I forgot how exhausting it can be!"

"You're a musician," Kurt pointed out.

"It's different when you're on stage," Sam and Rachel said at the same time, each breaking out into laughter after they realized what they'd done.

"That's what Blaine says, too."

"Do you go to all his gigs?"

"I used to. Back in the good ol' days." Kurt sighed dramatically, the entirety of their union passing before his eyes. "I traveled with the band the first year, but I'm a costume designer for Broadway and I just can't live both lives anymore like I used to. I try to drop everything when he is in town, but this is definitely a rare trip."

"And Finn's your brother, right?"

"Step," he answered, seeing the confusion playing all over Sam's face. "His mom married my dad in high school."

"Kurt had a _huge_ crush on Finn beforehand."

"I did not!"

"Did so!" Rachel shouted, sticking her tongue out mockingly as she saw how upset her friend got. She'd opened herself up for the same statement, but it was worth it just to get Kurt back for him teasing her about Noah. "He hated me back then because Finn liked me instead of him."

"Not as much as he liked Quinn, apparently."

Rachel simply smiled, past the time in her life when that statement would have felt like a bullet going through her heart. Offhandedly she wondered if Santana would feel the same way, or if she still had some lingering regret regarding her (and Rachel's) former flame. "Speaking of, where is she? She said she'd make the trip."

"Rain caught something at the last minute. Allegedly."

Rachel laughed at the way Kurt just rolled his eyes before getting up and pointing toward the bar, disappearing into the crowd. It took her a moment to realize she and Sam were alone for the first time since their car ride here, and she blushed when he must have figured it out too because he scooted a little bit closer to her. He draped his arm across the back of the rounded seat behind her, leaning in to talk into her ear so he wouldn't have to shout.

"You two seem close."

"Long history," she explained shortly. Then, she bit her lip and asked, "Where's your friend?"

Sam looked up for a moment, then leaned back down into Rachel's personal space. "If I had to guess, I'd say the bar." He blew out a breath, his eyes lifting a little in quiet exasperation. "Long history."

Rachel nodded slightly, remembering the short conversation about their history with Finn. It didn't seem like something significant enough to still be holding a grudge. She hadn't had a chance to ask Finn about it, though, since she'd been so busy with her upcoming record and the band had only arrived in LA this afternoon. And she wasn't exactly sure she had a right to ask. They were still friends, but there had to be some sort of rule about asking your ex-boyfriend about a guy who you were currently interested in - while you were pretending to date another guy.

"I, um, have a lunch date with everyone tomorrow before they all head back to New York. So we can go whenever you want."

Sam nodded, hearing what she wasn't saying. "How do you want to play it?"

Rachel paused only for effect. Gabby had given her pretty specific directions about how this night was meant to play out to the media - after, of course, some compromising; Rachel refused to _grind_ with Sam on the dance floor, nor would she engage in a three-way kiss _with anyone_.

"Body shot followed by a handheld exit?"

Sam silently agreed, the two getting up from the table and walking to the bar. Rachel tried not to search the area for Noah, but her eyes couldn't stop from darting from one male face to the next until … there he was. His hand cradled a generic bottle of beer while the other aided him in whatever conversation he was holding with one of the bartenders and what Rachel thought she remembered as the owner of the club. The two men laughed loudly and Noah took a sip of his beer, the action forcing his eyes away from his audience and, consequently, onto her. He swallowed slowly and grinned, tipping his beer toward her before going back to his conversation.

"Ladies first," Sam said, moving the shot glass he'd just ordered in front of her.

Rachel stared at the lime wedge and shaker of salt, then lifted her gaze back up. She looked past Sam, though, and back toward Noah. His eyebrows seemed to be cocked up in surprise, maybe even daringly. She knew what most people thought of her, that she was some type of goody two shoes. It was part of the reason she'd done that one photo shoot to begin with, and why she couldn't help the way her hand reached out for the salt almost defiantly. Rachel knew she'd never be as wild as Santana, but that didn't mean she was a saint.

"Order another," she demanded, downing the first shot without wincing. Her eyes again found Noah's from across the bar, and this time he seemed less surprised and more intrigued. Just the fact that she seemed to have his undivided attention made her heart race. Feeling bolder, she forced Sam down onto one of the stools. He was either a better actor than she would have guessed or he was actually enjoying himself, because his eyes sort of glazed over and his mouth twitched up in a way that oddly reminded Rachel of how Finn used to look when he was aroused.

With her eyes pointed at Sam but looking at Noah, Rachel leaned forward, purposefully allowing her chest to be on display before she ran her tongue slowly from the base of Sam's neck to right behind his ear. She parted her lips just enough so the air from her exhale would linger on the newly moistened area, and she let her teeth lightly graze the lobe of his ear without actually biting it as she pulled back. When Rachel tipped back the shot, she quickly licked her lips and let her eyes focus back on Noah before she leaned forward and sucked on the lime in Sam's mouth.

She could hear a few whoops and hollers from those close by that had caught the action, but Rachel's eyes remained locked on Noah's even after she pulled away from Sam, giggling as if she couldn't believe she'd just done that. Perhaps it was because her mind was split between focusing on playing her part with Sam and watching Noah, but she couldn't quite place the look in his eyes. There was a good length of distance between them, but she could have sworn she saw his eyes change from the deep hazel she'd noticed in their previous meetings to something … darker. Intense.

"Ready?"

Rachel hummed in reply, allowing Sam to grab her hand and lead her away from the bar. She nodded toward Kurt, the gesture meant to tell him that she was leaving and they'd talk tomorrow at lunch. His responding wave told her that he'd seen more than what she'd wanted anyone to catch on to, and she immediately knew they'd have to talk before lunch or the conversation would get very uncomfortable - as she was sure Finn wouldn't want to hear the convoluted story.

Cameras started flashing the second the two of them exited the club, and they only parted long enough to sign a few autographs before twining their fingers once more. Paparazzi bombarded the pair about their new relationship, to which both of them just said they were getting to know the other. Sam opened the car door for her and they each waved bye until the door closed and the driver started to pull away. It was still early for a night out, but Rachel was exhausted. Between the press, dancing, talking and acting, she was very grateful that she had the day off tomorrow.

"Well that was fun." Sam grinned, running his hands over his jeans. "All of it."

She giggled at the dorky way he looked at her despite the smooth line, shoving him out of her personal space only because he'd evaded it jokingly. "Tonight worked, for sure."

"What's next?"

"I have lunch with my friends tomorrow. I figured I could text you during it, so it would appear as if we're close even when we aren't?"

"Awesome." Sam nodded. "Maybe some Twitter flirting?"

"Slut," Rachel joked, though she made a mental note to tweet about this evening before going to bed. "I have a few meetings on Monday, but perhaps I could come by the studio again on Tuesday? Work on our song?"

"I have some promotional thing in the morning, but how about lunch? I always work better on a full stomach."

"I'll remember that." Rachel smiled, then turned to face the window as she felt the car slow to a stop. She could see her doorman walking closer, so she turned back to Sam. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"My pleasure," he answered genuinely. That's what Rachel liked most about Sam; even though their entire relationship was all for show, she could tell he wanted to substantiate their friendship as much as she did. They both didn't want it all to be fake. "Sleep tight."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," she finished, loud enough that not only Sam could hear but the doorman as well as a passing group of girls who, she thought, just might be the type to gossip about the cute exchange on some social media.

"Good evening, Miss."

"Thank you, Frank." Rachel smiled at the doorman as she passed through the threshold. She smiled at the attendant guarding the private elevator and exchanged pleasantries with him before the doors closed and it started to ascend to the penthouse suite. She stepped off the elevator right into her apartment, tossing her purse down on the foyer table haphazardly and moving to the kitchen where she could hear someone rustling around.

"I can't believe you didn't invite him up," Santana sneered, her head still buried in the refrigerator as she spoke. "Didn't we like _just_ buy water? Where the hell … oh."

"When did you leave the club?"

"I ain't in the mood to run the numbers with you, Shorty. I can feel the headache forming, so I'm going to down this and about five aspirin and call it a night." Santana passed her roommate, tossing over her shoulder, "You should probably go right to bed, too."

Rachel squinted suspiciously at the Latina's retreating form, only moving her gaze away from her and toward her bedroom door when she was completely out of sight. Santana was usually very easy to read, mostly because she told you exactly what she was thinking. If she was cryptic in any way, it led to trouble, which was why Rachel took hesitant steps toward her bedroom. Slowly she pushed the door open, poking her head inside before committing her whole body into entering. The weight of her body closed the door behind her, her mouth hanging open a little when she realized just what Santana had done.

"Sup, Berry?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I went back and forth with this chapter for so long, and I'm honestly not sure if I made the right decision. I hope I did, and I'm posting it to get your feedback. I'm hoping to find time to write today and a little over the holiday, and I have a general idea of what is to happen next and such, but I don't have anything written yet. I say this in part as a warning that even my once-a-week update might come to an end if I can't get out the words, but also in part to tempt you into reviewing because those always inspire me. :D

And, by the way, those who are reviewing: THANKS. Seriously, the response last chapter was awesome, so I really appreciate the confidence boost. Hopefully you consider this my gift of gratitude.

**Disclaimer:** This is M-rated. Like, M+. Apparently I've never read the rating guidelines as closely as I should have. It isn't the worst (and by that I mean dirtiest) thing I've ever written, but it's apparently not supposed to be on the site. *shrugs* I won't tell if you don't.

* * *

Puck chuckled at the way Rachel just stood there, opening and closing her mouth like she was trying to catch flies. It wasn't exactly the best look, but for her it worked; he liked that he made her nervous. She obviously didn't know how to react to him, their interactions thus far limited and yet hitting a wide spectrum of emotions. She was all business that first day at the park, and then pissed the next morning at the studio. Then he got her alone and she was surprisingly quiet, invitingly so. And this evening at the club she was jaw-dropping hot.

"It was a pretty simple question, babe."

"Wh-what are you doing in, in my bedroom?"

Puck smirked. "I wanted to catch ya in the kitchen with a shot of tequila, but Satan thought this would be funnier."

Rachel glared, though she hadn't decided yet who she was mad at the most. Noah was quite presumptuous, but she knew this was more Santana's idea than his. However, neither of them were at fault for how easily she'd turned into a sputtering mess. She'd been around plenty of attractive men in her life, and yet near Noah she turned into a virginal schoolgirl - which he would probably like.

"Why dontcha pull that stick out of your ass and c'mere?" Puck pat the spot next to him on the bed seductively, wiggling his eyebrows. "Ya know you wanna."

"I do not," she huffed, still caught up on the beginning of his remark.

Puck chuckled into his reply, "Why not?"

Rachel opened her mouth, then closed it. Again, it was a simple question, but she couldn't for the life of her think of the right answer. She didn't want to lie, which would be exactly what she did if she said anything that implied her reason for not joining him had to do with his appearance or her attraction to him. Clearly she found him desirable - she was a warm-blooded female with a heartbeat, after all. She also couldn't go into any sort of rant about his decorum because, frankly, she was finding that to also be quite attractive. Rachel had always been the one in control, but there was something about Noah's assertiveness that was exhilarating.

"I barely know you."

Puck smirked, nodding his head slightly before bouncing off her bed and casually strolling closer. He cocked his head at the way she tried to take a step back, clearly forgetting that she'd basically collapsed against the bedroom door when she'd first seen him. "Let's get to know each other, then."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat at his low drawl, her eyes slowly lifting as Noah grew closer and closer. She could feel the warmth of his body even with the few inches of distance he kept between them, and somehow the heat caused her to shiver just slightly. Absently she feared he'd notice her reaction, but the resistance necessary for her not to reach out and touch him was taking precedent at the moment. Like some kind of mantra, she just kept repeating that she couldn't do this - though she had no recollection as to why not.

"Why do I get the feeling you mean biblically speaking?"

"S'cause you're smart," he volleyed back, matching her slight smile (albeit his wasn't forced like hers). "And we're two hot Jews."

"I didn't know you were Jewish."

He hummed in affirmation, leaning into her personal space enough that she could feel his breath on her neck. "Know me well enough yet?"

Rachel swore she lifted her hands to push him away, but the second she pressed them against his chest she couldn't muster up the force that would have been necessary to move him. Instead, something inside her scorched through her veins; it was hot and yet caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. Paired with the fact that Noah had yet to move his lips from just millimeters from her ear, Rachel's hands merely grazed down his untucked, button-down shirt until she gripped the loose fabric at each of his sides for her own stability.

"Wh-what about Sam?"

"I ain't into that sort of thing, babe." He chuckled when she tugged on his shirt impatiently, letting his nose skim across her hairline until his lips were by her other ear before he spoke again. "He's still your fake boyfriend."

"But …"

"If anyone knows I'm here," he interrupted, "they think I'm with your friend."

Rachel blinked away some of the fog she could feel clouding her brain, resting her head back against the door for support. She waited until he pulled back enough that she could see his eyes, then asked, "Why aren't you?"

"Have you _seen _you?" Puck's eyes moved across her face, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw doubt flash through her brown orbs. Did she really not see it? He thought the coy thing was just an act. "Lemme show ya why."

He'd done plenty of girls with self-esteem issues and it was almost formulaic which buttons needed to be pushed to get them to spread their legs. And even though he'd used some variation of that sentence before, this time it wasn't really a line. He'd never wanted anything more than to show Rachel at that moment just how much sexier she was than Santana or any other woman he'd ever seen. How just watching her do an innocent body shot was enough to send him into a frenzied obsession, where it didn't matter who was throwing herself at him at the club or how it could ruin everything from his friendship with Sam to his (and her) entire career.

He had to have her.

"Please."

Rachel whined at his request, her grip involuntarily pulling him closer. The action caused his lower body to press against her and he moaned in appreciation, a reaction that surprised her but jolted her confidence. The fact that she was seemingly able to have the same effect on him that he had on her was empowering. It made her feel bolder, giving her the courage to lean into him and whisper in his ear, "Show me."

Puck's response was instantaneous, his knee moving between Rachel's legs just to get her to move one enough that he could reach behind it and hoist her up against the door. The sound of her quiet gasp echoed in his ear, the small hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention as a result. The tips of her long hair skimmed against his skin and he couldn't help the way he rocked against her when she locked her ankles behind his back. His head was buried in her neck, peppering the area with light nips and kisses while he focused on the blood he swore he could feel coursing through her as he inched his hand higher and higher up her thigh.

Rachel hiccuped at the sensation, her eyes shutting tightly when his hands finally reached their destination, cradling her behind in a way that was somehow possessive and adoring at the same time. She felt like Noah's personality could similarly fall under two widely different spectrums, as she'd seen him in many different lights just in the short amount of time of knowing him. He was clearly a loyal friend, having a long history with Sam and now working with him. Their conversation was short, but Rachel got the feeling that he was close to his mother - or at least protective of her; it was evidence that, deep down, he did respect women even if his bravado seemed to pull his compass in another direction. His language (and manner, in general) was quite abrasive and he was much like Santana in the fact that he didn't care if what he said hurt someone's feelings, but he was also perfectly honest - at least with her. Rachel hadn't asked him anything specific or possibly incriminating, but there wasn't any indication from their previous encounters that he'd even attempt to lie.

"Fuck," Puck breathed, pressing against her a little more incessantly even though he leaned back in an effort to inhale some much-needed air. He was generally cool with suffocating as long as he was buried in a particularly delicious part of a woman - and always thought dying during sex would be the best way to go - but he sure as shit wasn't going out without having sex with Rachel. Everything about her so far was hot, including the dazed expression currently starring back at him.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes fluttering open and her tongue swiping across her bottom lip. "I didn't bite you, did I?"

Puck smirked. "Does that happen a lot?" Rachel blushed, then moaned when he rocked his hips into her again. "So fuckin' hot, babe."

He peeled her off the door, sweeping across the room and landing them both not-so-gingerly onto the soft cushion of her mattress. Rachel mewled at the feel of his weight on her, re-tightening her legs' hold around his waist for as long as she could as he started to move his mouth off her neck and farther south. Her eyes shut tight when she felt his tongue graze the valley between her breasts, then they shot open when she felt his teeth nip at the sensitive skin hidden just under the fabric of her shirt. Her verbal reaction, however, was stopped short as he simply continued his trek down her body, his callused fingers working the torso of her shirt higher so his lips could touch the tanned skin of her stomach.

"Easy, tiger." Puck chuckled, his fingers curling around the waistband of her skirt. "I don't want ya to pass out."

Rachel scoffed, able to hide her embarrassment since her skin was already so flushed. "I have incredible lung capacity."

"I bet ya do," he started to tease, removing her bottoms so she was just lying in her tank top and underwear, sort of glaring at him. "But I ain't the one almost hyperventilating."

Biting her lip, Rachel quickly re-wrapped her legs around his waist. The next second, after grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down abruptly, he was on his back and Rachel was on top. She giggled at his dazed expression, crawling her hands underneath his shirt and then skimming her nails down his chest and stomach. "Let's see if we can change that, shall we?"

"Good fuck, babe." Puck groaned, lifting to his elbows so he could watch her careful omission of his belt. Her hands were crazy small (kind of like the rest of her) and he'd expected her to be delicate and gentle with everything she touched. It wouldn't be the first surprise of the evening. "Christ."

Rachel grinned at his strangled breath, swiping her thumb across the tip of his penis and then staring into his eyes when he inhaled unevenly. "Easy, tiger."

Puck managed a short chuckle before his entire world fell apart around him, the feel of her mouth on him better than he ever imagined - and yes, he'd imagined it. A lot. Her tiny hands were working his shaft in perfect harmony with her little mouth, which was alternating between sucking and licking and kissing and … shit. He gripped the sheets when he felt the back of her throat, and couldn't stop from pushing into her more. He would have felt like an asshole if she hadn't hummed in appreciation (felt _so _good) and sucked harder (felt even better).

"You're so good."

Rachel sighed at the compliment, continuing her ministrations until he apparently couldn't take it anymore, tugging on her hair to force her to stop. His mouth quickly covered hers again, as did his body when he rolled them over her mattress. Somewhat chaotically, the pair rid themselves of their remaining clothes until the only barrier between them was the condom Puck had pulled out of the back pocket of his jeans before tossing them to the ground. He poised himself right at her entrance, his head sagging onto her shoulder when she rolled up to connect their bodies.

"Faster."

Puck had heard basically everyone call her bossy, so he wasn't quite sure why he was surprised that it would carryover into the bedroom. Relative strangers or not, it didn't take long to learn that Rachel Berry knew what she wanted and that, generally speaking, she seemed to get it. And he wasn't necessarily into the dominatrix thing, but he totally found her demanding side to be super hot. Guys don't like asking for directions, but they don't mind being told them.

"Get on top," he grunted, scooping her into his arms and turning them effortlessly. Rachel, however, changed the position more, spinning around so they were both facing the same way. Her tiny hands perched on his chest for support while she swiveled her hips in a way that was legit making him dizzy (and not by her movement). Her hair cascaded around him when she leaned her head back, and the smell of strawberries was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her walls starting to clench around him.

"Ooh." Rachel dug her nails into Puck's chest, finally falling back against his frame and letting him take over as she fell apart. "Noah."

Given her profession and personality, Puck expected her to be a screamer. He figured Rachel to be the type of woman who would start off slow and go until only dogs could hear the sound coming out of her. Window-shattering levels. However, the sound of his name rolling off her lips was a million times better than anything else. It was breathy and almost desperate, and paired with her body shuddering against him, he had no chance at holding back his own orgasm.

"S-shit," he stuttered, tightening his hold around her waist and keeping her from moving as he thrust into her a few last times. Their breathing was labored, Rachel just resting the rest of what little weight hadn't already been on top of him while Puck managed to sink further into the mattress in exhaustion. He might have actually fell asleep if Rachel hadn't reached her hand back and scratched the back of his head. Puck absently leaned into her touch, his lips suctioning themselves onto her neck.

"Noah," she purred, nuzzling into his embrace before gingerly turning over. Rachel smiled when he just grunted in response, still refusing to open his eyes. Slowly she crept a little higher on his body, placing a wet kiss against his chest and another below his chin before her tongue flicked the lobe of his ear. She repeated, "Noah."

Puck moaned in reply this time, his eyes not opening but rolling back into his head as she started to gyrate against him. Her movements were deliberate, commanding in a subtle (but not really) kind of way. And he wasn't seventeen anymore, but he didn't need much recovery time when a hot chick was rubbing against him. "Are you tryin' to kill me?"

Her innocent giggle did the trick, his eyes opening as his hands made their way to her hips. Rachel rocked against him, also humming her appreciation before pushing back from his ear to look him in the eye. With only the moonlight illuminating her bedroom the veil of her dark hair cloaked the two in darkness, but he could still see the passion in hers and knew his were darkening as well.

Maybe she would be the death of him, but what a way to go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** It was touch and go for awhile there, but I had a spot of inspiration on this little story of mine and now I have the entire thing outlined. It's looking like there will be about 20 chapters all together, so we've just barely scratched the surface here. Thank you to everyone for sticking around and reading, and double thanks to those taking the time to review. You guys rock!

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Puck woke slowly and stretched his arm out across the mattress, a low groan escaping as the sore muscles tightened in protest to the movement. The space where his hand landed was cold, his eyes opening to notice the indent that should have been there was not. Blinking a few times to ensure it hadn't all been an elaborate dream - it wouldn't have been the first time he'd pictured himself hooking up with Rachel - he lifted his head and then the rest of his body. In the dark he found his boxers and managed to put them on while walking across her bedroom.

As soon as he opened the door, the soft sound that he'd thought he'd heard grew a little louder, guiding him toward the only life in the apartment. He hadn't really noticed when he'd come in with Santana, but it was obvious she made a decent living. The hardwood floors, the open floor plan, the baby grand piano surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that gave view to a beautiful terrace overlooking the ocean. He was torn between wondering why he gave up modeling and why he didn't date models when he saw Rachel.

She was sitting at the bench of the piano, the sheet from her bed wrapped around her body but only covering her bottom half. Standing behind her, with the moonlight flooding into the area and seemingly focused solely on her, Puck couldn't help but think back to their encounter only … well, he wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. When Rachel had taken over their initial tryst and rode him reverse cowgirl style, he'd oddly been fascinated by her back. It was all he could see, really, but looking at her now, he was pretty sure he would have took notice anyway.

Her skin looked insane in the moonlight. It was an exotic olive color, but evenly tanned in a completely natural way; the one thing Puck hated about LA was how fake all the chicks were. Fake tans, fake boobs, fake accents for their fake careers. Rachel, on the other hand, was completely real. She was this super tiny chick who somehow had legs that went on forever, had a nose that he knew most wouldn't think was sexy but he saw their heritage in the feature and skin that was so smooth that he'd almost worried about breaking her while they were going at it.

Santana might be the Victoria Secret model, but Rachel was the angel.

"Hey," he whispered, hoping not to freak her out.

Rachel turned her head at the sound of her voice, a blush rising as she coyly lifted the sheet to cover herself more. It seemed ridiculous considering everything they'd just done, but it made her feel better for some reason. As a plus, it gave her hands the task of keeping the sheet secure when they might try to betray her and reach out for him as he stepped closer and closer until he was eventually sitting next to her on the piano bench. Her eyes instinctively landed on his chest, roaming lower for only a moment before darting back up to his face and then back to the piano when she saw his knowing smirk.

"I'm sorry if I woke you."

"S'okay." Puck shrugged, tapping on the keys and recoiling at the loud sound it made. Now it made sense why Rachel was just barely touching them while she'd been playing. "I don't normally sleep."

She smiled at the sound of his voice, focusing on the surprise in his tone and not the connotation of his words. Rachel was under no illusion that Puck was anything close to celibate. His Lothario routine was clear from at least a mile away. However, considering everything that had been on her mind since she'd left her bedroom, Rachel didn't want to think about another reason this all might have been a mistake.

"Then I'm sorry I wore you out."

Puck snorted out a chuckle, still touching the piano but not playing anything. "I told ya," he began with a smirk, winking at her for good measure. "I like surprises."

Rachel blushed, giggling lightly when he bumped his thigh against hers. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous. They'd just shared what most people would consider the most intimate experience two people can share, and yet she felt like she was sixteen years old again, out past curfew with one of the cool kids who she wanted so badly to impress but couldn't help wonder why they were talking to her to begin with. It had been a _very _long time since she'd had that feeling. So long, in fact, that she couldn't quite remember if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I-I don't. Like surprises, I mean." She shrugged one shoulder emptily. "I'm a very detail-oriented person, and one cannot account for surprises."

"Fuck, Berry." He shook his head. "For being a walking dictionary, you should legit look up the word _spontaneity_."

Rachel glowered at him, turning to face him at a better angle, one leg curled up as the other hung over the side of the piano bench, all while tightening her hold of the sheet. "I'm spontaneous." She huffed at his scoffed reply. "You're sitting here, are you not?"

"Maybe, but you've been sittin' out here for however long regretting it all."

His voice tapered off somewhere near the middle, right before her frown deepened. "I don't regret it, Noah." Rachel sighed, her eyes falling a little. "I just … it shouldn't have happened."

Puck nodded, understanding what she meant. Great sex aside, she was right. Sam's career all but depended on the woman next to him, and that meant his career was resting on her shoulders, too. Rachel should have been the last person in the world he got involved with, but he'd done it anyway. He'd set his mind to getting her, and now that he'd had, Puck didn't know if he could just stop. Maybe it was the danger. Maybe it was the challenge.

Maybe it was her.

"No one's gotta know, babe." He leaned into her personal space a little, dropping his voice even lower. "I'mma good at keepin' secrets."

"Well I'm not," she said, undeterred by his charm. "In high school, I found out my crush's girlfriend had cheated on him and immediately told him without any regard for whether the rumor was true or if telling him the truth was the best thing or not."

"Don't matter. High school sucks."

Rachel tilted her head to one side, her mouth twitching up just slightly. "I find it hard to believe that you didn't enjoy high school." Her eyes scanned his frame once more, her smile turning even more lopsided. "Between the charm, the athletic physique, and the music background, I'm quite confident in assuming you enjoyed yourself thoroughly."

"What makes you think I have a music background?" He asked, the panicked question coming out neutral when his amusement for her observation cancelled out his distress.

"Earlier this week, in the studio room, you'd said your mother forced you to learn to play piano. But …" Rachel blushed, trailing off just so she could move her attention to anything but his piercing stare. "I noticed your fingers are callused and there was a guitar in your office, which leads me to believe you can also play that instrument."

Absently, Puck ran his thumb over the pads of his fingers, noting the roughness. "Chicks dig musicians."

Rachel giggled, nodding her head in acceptance. She might not know him entirely well, but she could picture him learning to play the guitar just to pick up women. Sitting next to him as he toyed with the piano keys was almost enough for her to take him back to her bedroom, and he wasn't even really playing anything. His one hand was stroking random keys while her one hand did the same, the two of them creating a harmony of sorts despite the fact that the melody they were creating wasn't a real song.

"I'd like to deny that, but I'm afraid I've fallen into said stereotype. Over and over again." She sighed heavily. "Granted, I don't allow myself much free time, so my relationships tended to either stem from my extra-curricular aspirations while I was in school or from my career afterward."

In a flash, Rachel's three serious relationships coursed through her mind. She didn't necessarily regret any of them - except maybe dating Jesse again after college; that had been a moment of weakness that lasted far too long - but she didn't feel like the lessons she'd learned from them outweighed the pain they'd caused. Finn might be the only exception (she's pretty sure that's not why she sang him that song all the way back in high school, but it was funny how things worked out), which made no sense. Considering their tormented on and off relationship status, their relationship should have provoked the most pain. And yet, after everything Jesse did the first time with regards to her birth mother and the second time in regards to him being a prick as well as the whole thing with Brody cheating on her with her most hated professor … Finn breaking her heart time and time again wasn't too terrible.

"What about you?" Rachel asked, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. "You don't strike me as someone who'd conform to any one stereotype. But, do you have a type?"

Puck's movements stalled, his head sagged looking at the piano keys but his vision blurring a little. He was the popular, bad-boy jock in high school; he had his pick of the litter, and was never extremely picky. Freshmen, cougars, white, dark, big, little … he'd had a taste of pretty much everything. He'd learned over the years what he liked and what he didn't and had narrowed his scope a little, but his standards were still pretty low. No models. No blondes.

"I'm into brunettes," he answered honestly, shaking the protruding thoughts from his mind before they could manifest into full-blown rage (or depression). "Mouthy ones." Puck smirked, switching hands so the right was on the piano while the left meandered below, inching up the sheet until the pads of his fingers touched the bare skin of her inner thigh. "Sexy ones."

Rachel's head lulled back on its own accord, her mouth opening on a soft gasp. She bit her lip to keep from further embarrassing herself, her eyes fighting to stay open. She struggled with the part of her that knew this was a mistake and the part that couldn't care less. She couldn't believe she was already so invested in him, but she _was_. Her body craved him, and her mind was also enjoying his company. She liked the way he made her feel in and out of the bedroom, even if the logical side of her knew those feelings were dangerous - on basically _every_ level.

"I want you, but …" Her breath hitched on the last word, Puck's fingers pressing tight against her flesh at the first part of her statement. "But I'm not sure I have time for a fake boyfriend _and_ a real one."

Puck wasn't sure what his motive was. Her resolve was breaking, he could feel it in the slight shake of her leg and the breathy tone of her voice. He could lay her out on the bench they were both sitting on and get what he'd come for then bail after knowing she'd look back and think it had been her idea from the start. And he normally was the one-and-done kind of guy, but there was something about Rachel that made that concept unappealing. The way she reacted to his touch was crazy hot, but he also liked the way she responded to _him_. She talked way too much, but she also listened; she wasn't judgemental and hadn't used everything he'd ever said to put him in some box that deemed him unworthy or undeserving of her attention. She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him in the bedroom _and_ outside of it, which for some reason he liked.

"Let's just focus on the first part," he suggested lowly, leaning forward and brushing his lips against the column of her throat. He ran his tongue slowly over the pulse point, then over her jaw and to her ear, sucking on the lobe lightly before kissing the sensitive skin below. "We can worry about the label later."

Rachel's hand dropped the sheet and lifted to his jaw, pushing him toward her mouth and crashing her lips against his. She spent so much energy dueling with him for dominance that she forgot all about fighting with herself about whether she was making the right decision or not. Frankly, at that point, she didn't know if she had any choice. Everything inside her was pulling him closer (though in reality she was pulling herself closer, climbing into his lap, her bare chest pressed against his), so much so that she wondered how she'd be able to let him go at the supposed later date.

"Well that explains that," Santana grumbled, shuffling from the doorway of her bedroom to the kitchen without a second glance at the pair. She yanked the door of the refrigerator open, wincing at the bright light and trying to find a bottle of water from the back with her eyes mostly closed. Twisting the cap off and taking a long drag, she sighed in appreciation before finally turning back around. By then Rachel had secured the sheet around her frame and the two were facing the kitchen.

"You're up unusually early this morning."

Santana tipped the bottle back once more, smirking even as she swallowed another large gulp of water. Despite the distance, she could easily see her friend's blushing cheeks and also knew the only reason she'd remained on Puck's lap was because he was likely trying to hide a much more obvious sign of arousal. "I gave up sleeping somewhere after the ninth call from my agent." She threw a pointed look at Puck. "I have a strict no-sleepover policy."

"I call it the sunrise rule," Rachel joked, finally moving off of Puck and walking closer to the kitchen. "I'm sorry, San. It won't happen again."

Santana hummed skeptically, taking in the couple's appearances once more and knowing Rachel was lying through her teeth. She might have been the one to put this whole thing in motion - literally bringing Puck to Rachel - but that didn't mean she thought it was a the best idea. She didn't know Puck, but she felt like they operated on a similar wavelength. In and out. Rachel, on the other hand, was a serial monogamous. She believed in love and family and things that people like Santana and Puck had long ago placed in the column along with Santa and magic.

"Well, it happened once, so we're going to have to work this out." She looked past her friend to Puck, who was trying to sneak away to Rachel's bedroom. "You," she barked. "We're dating."

"'Scuse me?"

"Ya wanna keep fuckin' my roommate?" She asked rhetorically. "You violated _the sunrise rule_," Santana moved her gaze to Rachel just to roll her eyes, then looked back at Puck, "so now people assume we're together. I'd loved to tell them I could do a lot better, but I have to take into account _all_ of your careers since _you two_ obviously didn't."

"Thank you," Rachel mumbled, her head down. Once again, Rachel felt like a teenager, this time being reprimanded by her parents, though Santana seemed more upset than just disappointed. Plus, Rachel's dads had never really yelled at her before; she'd never done the rebellious thing, which was another reason for maybe why she deserved to just go with her gut currently. "Lunch today is on me."

"Uh, yeah. About that …"

"I knew it."

"Shut up." Santana scoffed, finishing the last of the water before walking toward the trash can. "Only about five of the phone calls were about your gentleman caller. The others were my agent informing me that I have to be in Paris in a few hours for some stupid photo shoot."

"If it is so stupid, then skip it." Rachel smiled wide as she saw Santana's face crinkle in concentration, no doubt trying to think of a valid excuse for why she couldn't. "Just admit you're avoiding today's lunch."

"Look," Santana began sternly, her hands on either side of the kitchen sink; she didn't have anything left to do in the kitchen and she knew Rachel would know she was anxious if she didn't busy her hands somehow. "Kurt hates me and Blaine is your gay, and it's cool that you stayed chummy with our ex, but I'll pass."

"_Our _ex?"

"Long story," Rachel answered evasively.

"Not really," Santana said. "Rachel dated the dude all through high school even though he dumped her like a dozen times for this bimbo cheerleader, then she passed him off on me in college so she could find herself. Worked out great for her, but I got fucked royally when he said I was dead inside and went back to the same bimbo cheerleader."

Rachel frowned at the last part, hearing the hurt in Santana's voice despite all her efforts to hide it. "Santana …"

"If I were really dead inside, I'd tell him the bitch was cheating on him right before they got married instead of taking the fall for it."

A long, awkward silence filled the room. Puck wondered if he'd bitten off more than he could chew; he stayed away from relationships partially to avoid the drama, and the room was currently filled with a ton of baggage. Luckily, it seemed like most of it belonged to Santana as opposed to Rachel. He might want to warn his bro before letting him get caught up in the Latina, though.

"You shoulda. Dude sounds like a douche."

"He is," Santana agreed before Rachel could finish the thought she'd seen coming out of the brunette's opening mouth. The two shared a look before Santana once again moved her gaze to Puck. "I have to be at the airport in an hour. Go get dressed and then get my bags. I'll be in the car."

Puck sighed, wishing he could tell her to shove it but understanding he was kind of stuck letting her boss him around. Still, he made another mental note for Sam before turning and walking back into Rachel's room. He was pulling his wife beater over his head when Rachel stopped at the doorframe, looking much shyer than she had back at the piano. He walked closer even as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his button down, his hands naturally resting on her hips and jostling her a little until she smiled.

"Later?"

With her head still bent low, Rachel looked up at him, shaking a bit of her hair out of the way to better see his expression. It was sinful how attractive he looked, so sure of himself but still managing a hopeful look. Overconfidence might be one thing they had in common, though it was in completely different avenues of their lives. After all, she'd worried he might have regretted his decision to engage in any type of relationship with her - casual or not - after everything that Santana had said. But there he was, letting her button up his shirt even though his eyes and even her hands told her they wished she was undoing them instead. He still wanted her.

And she still wanted him.

"Later."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** If the last chapter didn't get many reviews, I'm not sure how this one is going to do. Then again, even though there is no direct (well, face-to-face, I guess) Puckleberry interaction, I have a feeling you guys will have a little something to say about this chapter. :)

Enjoy!

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Rachel braced her hand on the doorknob, looking back behind her shoulder to scan the apartment one last time before allowing Kurt to enter. She'd spent the past few hours getting ready to go out to lunch with her friends, but most of the time was not dedicated to showering or dressing. Instead, Rachel did her best to void the apartment of all traces of Noah, knowing Kurt would have a field day if there was even the tiniest piece of evidence left from her and Noah's night together.

She'd changed the sheets and cleaned the old ones just in case he'd look in her hamper, and despite how much it actually saddened her (she'd already rolled her eyes at herself) she sprayed a deodorizer throughout the apartment to rid the air of any lingering male scent. Noah hadn't been wearing cologne last night, but Rachel had picked up a hint of soap and something else after she'd cleaned the apartment and knew Kurt would, too. He had the nose of a bloodhound. Luckily the only proof that Rachel wasn't alone last night was a small, dark mark on her inner thigh, which was probably the only spot her gay friend would never search.

"Good afternoon, Kurt!"

Kurt's eyebrows lifted almost immediately, his expression not nearly as cheery as Rachel's (no one's could have been). "Hi."

"Shall we go? We mustn't be late."

He watched her float around the apartment like a hummingbird, grabbing her handbag and then her sunglasses and keys. Rachel was usually a little bouncier than most - partially from her own personality and partially from her obsession with coffee - but this was different. She seemed light, carefree albeit suspiciously antsy. She was practically skipping.

"So," Kurt began, swinging the door shut with his foot so he could cross his arms accusingly. "How was he?"

"Excuse me?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Please. You're glowing. Either you had sex or you're pregnant." He grinned wickedly. "Or both."

"I'm not pregnant," she answered lowly. Her and Noah had used protection on top of her birth control. She took it every day at precisely the same time and had done so for more than ten years. She would not be one of those women whose dreams were crushed by a reckless case of lustful emotions, stupidity or mere irresponsibility. She still had things left to achieve before she met that last goal of motherhood, which was one she planned to devote herself to entirely once the moment came.

Unlike her own mother.

"I know you couldn't have won another Tony … OMG! Did your single hit number one?" He asked excitedly, grasping both her forearms and almost shaking her.

"No, ouch. No." Rachel squirmed free from his hold, making a move for the doorknob. "Why can't I just be excited to spend the day off with my friends who are visiting for the weekend?"

"For one, because we saw each other yesterday." Kurt sidestepped the door as she flung it open, purposefully trying to hit him. "For another, the bite mark on the back of your shoulder."

Rachel gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. Kurt ran into her back and the two got stuck in an awkward dance as Rachel tried to get out of the doorframe, past him and run to the closest mirror all in under a second. Craning her neck as far back as it would go and twisting her arm to brush aside her hair, Rachel caught a glimpse of her reflection and gasped again. Barely visible even with her head turned almost 180 degrees, there was indeed a bite mark that clearly she couldn't have given to herself. And, God help her, her response was trying not to smile.

"I repeat, how was he?"

Kurt held open the door, smiling knowingly when Rachel just sagged her head and walked through the opening. She locked up and they walked at least a block away from the apartment building before she apparently felt comfortable enough to talk openly about whatever had happened last night. Considering they were walking to a lunch with her ex-boyfriend, Kurt knew they didn't have an unlimited amount of time to discuss the details. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to demand every single one of them.

"First, who is _he _in this scenario?"

Rachel narrowed her gaze, irrationally upset by that question. It made her sound like some two-bit floozy. As if she'd just grabbed some stranger from the curb and dragged him into her apartment to have her way with him. Granted, she didn't necessarily know Noah much better than a stranger - at least beforehand, anyway. Now she felt she knew him a little better. Kurt knew better than anyone that she wasn't the type of person to treat sex lightly; he was Finn's stepbrother, after all, and had been her sounding board before and after the first time.

"You know very well who the he is, but I'd prefer to keep the usage of the pronoun as we walk publically, please and thank you."

"Still wound awfully tight for someone who had what appears to be pretty decent sex last night," Kurt muttered, though not enough that she couldn't actually hear him. What fun was that? "So did _he_ make the first move or did you?"

"Technically," Rachel started, then stopped for a moment to consider the question. Noah had been blatantly obvious from the beginning about his attraction to her, but she'd been the one to use a body shot on another man to seduce him. "Santana took it upon herself."

"Of course," he answered bitterly. "I see she's not joining us this afternoon. Darn."

"I really wish you would just get over whatever it was that tore you two apart to begin with. Honestly, if I can be her friend after everything she put me through in high school, I'm sure whatever upset you so much can be discussed between you two and dealt with maturely."

"Mature is not an adjective that should be in the same sentence as Santana Lopez. And I understand she's helped you out since you left The Big Apple, but I still don't believe she's not getting something out of it. At the end of the day, she only cares about herself."

Rachel bowed her head, keeping quiet and just digesting Kurt's words. She still wasn't sure what it was that put those two at such odds - neither would talk about it despite everyone's efforts to get the information - but she'd learned long ago to not fight it. Kurt's opinion of Santana wouldn't budge, and the more hard-headed he was, the more Santana reciprocated the animosity. By now, they could barely stand to be in the same room with each other.

"She opened up her home to me without as much as a second glance, so I do owe her quite a bit." Rachel bit her lip, her eyes lifting to gauge his attention. "Even more after last night."

"Now we're talking."

Rachel giggled, pleased the tension could so easily be swept away when the right bait was used. Still, she could feel her cheeks redden as she said, "It was incredible, Kurt, He's incredible. The … moments … were electric, the sparks undeniable. But he's also got this whole different side to him. On the surface he's crass and vulgar and … deep down, though, don't know. He's a tortured soul with a vulnerable heart. And he's so talented and actually can be quite humorous and he makes me feel …"

"Whoa." Kurt literally stopped, which also caused Rachel's words and feet to come to a halt. "Rach … I mean, wow." He kind of coughed, then slowly started walking again. "I know it's been awhile, since Jesse, but it was just sex."

Rachel frowned. Again he'd managed to make her feel like a slut, but this time it hurt more. She felt cheap, felt like what her and Noah had shared was cheap. And even though they weren't putting a label on it and even though she knew it was risky for her career (and his), she didn't feel right about agreeing with that statement. It wasn't just sex. Not to her, and if his behavior (very) early this morning was any indication, not to him either.

"Please don't say anything at lunch."

"I won't." They rounded the corner, seeing Blaine and Finn in the distance at an outside patio eatery. "But, promise me you'll be careful." His voice dropped even though they were still at least 500 feet away from the lunch table. "The last time you sounded like this, you were eighteen and about to marry my brother and stay in Lima."

"Hey, Broadway!" Blaine greeted once they were close enough, standing and wrapping both his arms around Rachel tightly. "I'm not going to be able to call you that soon, huh?"

"Broadway will always be my first love," she assured softly. Her smile - though plastered on to begin with after Kurt's verbal blow - faded a little as Finn slowed to a stand and leant forward enough to awkwardly hug her shoulders. He pat her back once and then pulled away, sitting back down as everyone else took their seats. "The show was amazing last night. I'm sorry I couldn't stay to at least say goodbye."

"You've seen us perform at least a hundred times," Blaine dismissed, grinning devilishly. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the rest of your evening was much more eventful than our last few numbers."

Rachel and Kurt shared a look, the latter doing everything in his power not to burst into laughter while the former tried to discreetly kick him from under the table. She was saved, luckily, by the waitress taking their orders and then Finn teasing Kurt for being so picky about his choice. She didn't have much room to talk considering her own diet limitations, but she joked along with the others in an effort to distract them from talking about her. Outside of Santana and those involved, Kurt was the only other person who knew Sam was Rachel's fake boyfriend. He'd sworn to not even tell Blaine, which she knew had to be killing him.

Unfortunately, the waitress chose that moment to bring their table's drinks, which spurred Blaine on again. "You want to chase that water with some salt and a lime wedge?"

"Big mouth," Rachel mumbled to Kurt, who glared at her for likely the reason she'd just considered. He had _plenty_ more he could tell Blaine, so she'd take the story about the body shot. "It was nothing."

"The entertainment rags don't seem to think so. The Pop Prince and the Pop Princess, together. It's like a fairytale."

She couldn't be any more embarrassed, and it was for all the wrong reasons. Blaine's teasing was mild at the worst, but she happened to be sharing a table with Kurt and Finn. The former's tongue was probably bleeding by now if not completely bitten off, and Finn … well if he felt half as awkward as she did talking about this, then the percentage was still somewhere in the thousands.

"Sam is wonderful," Rachel answered truthfully. "I'm enjoying spending time with him."

"What am I, the press?" Blaine scoffed. "I need details! You look happier than I've ever seen you!"

Kurt's parting words rang in her head, her gaze moving to his long enough to see the same cautious expression. Last night was completely uncharacteristic of her, but she'd loved every moment of it. There was something about Noah that made her act entirely different, but feel more like herself than she ever had before. With Finn she was always trying to be the perfect girlfriend, worried she'd lose the popular boy to a cheerleader (or one particular cheerleader) after just one wrong move. Similarly, with Jesse and Brody, their connections were so strongly based on their shared passion for the arts that they'd never bothered to learn anything more about each other.

Noah seemed to have a lot of different passions in his life - her included - and when she was with him, she realized she did, too.

"The same can be said for you two," Rachel dodged, gesturing to Blaine and Kurt. "It's been almost two months and I'm still reeling from your beautiful five-year anniversary party."

Kurt sighed dreamily. "It was fabulous, wasn't it?"

Rachel giggled at her friend, the smile not fading even as she removed her phone from her purse to see who'd texted her. She'd been so busy catching up that she forgot she'd told Sam they would correspond during her lunch. Fortunately, it appeared she wasn't the only one who forgot. The text wasn't from Sam, but rather an unknown number.

_What r u wearin?_

"Ut oh." Blaine laughed loudly, whistling a little. "Booty call."

"Shut up," Rachel laughed, her thumbs typing the necessary _Who is this? _reply before she took a bite of the meal that had been placed in front of her a moment ago.

_Satan's bf._

It was ridiculous, but she had to push down a tinge of jealousy. Santana might be saving her career from spiraling out of control before it even got a chance to take off, but Rachel hated the idea of her being with Noah. It was a little possessive, but then again Rachel had already shared a lot with her roommate - one of those things currently sitting next to her at lunch, seemingly trying to stuff an entire cheeseburger into his mouth.

"How adorable is it that he misses you already?"

Rachel's gaze moved to Kurt's, whose teal eyes shone with the superiority of knowing Sam was not the one of the other side of those texts. She had to give him credit for acting completely normal, which was better than she could manage at that moment. The next text had her blushing so hard that she knew any hope of _not_ talking about her relationship with Sam was out of the question.

_Or the guy whose name u chanted last nite._

"How did you two even meet? You've been so busy lately preparing for your album's release."

_I prefer Noah._

Rachel propped the phone between her thighs, trying to focus on Blaine long enough to answer him somewhat intelligently. "Through our managers, actually." She wanted to toss Kurt a triumphant 'Ha. That wasn't a lie!' look, but instead her gaze dropped to her lap and the small screen of her phone that was signalling she had a new message.

_Coming from ur lips, me 2._

Her heart raced unnaturally, her hands shaking a little as they cradled her phone. With her thumbs poised over the keys, Rachel thought about what she wanted to write. Sexting was certainly out of the question (despite his obvious intentions), but she couldn't deny that she was exhilarated by his efforts. He made her feel so desirable, even when he wasn't even around, and she couldn't help but want to reward that in some fashion.

_Is it later yet?_

"I'm happy for you. When Kurt first told me, I was worried you'd moved from groupie to crazy fangirl status."

Rachel rolled her eyes, desperately trying not to glance down at her phone to see if there was a response even though she'd only just sent the text and the phone hadn't vibrated. "Can we please talk about someone else's life? Finn, how's Quinn? Kurt had said Rain's sick. Is Hunter well?"

The tall man shrugged absently. "Some bug at the daycare, I guess. Hunter eats dirt, so I don't anything can bring down that kid."

The group laughed, each thinking about their own experiences with Finn and Quinn's eldest. The young boy had just turned three and was basically Finn with blonde hair. His innocent appearance fooled many, giving him the opportunity to get into a lot of peculiar situations, most notably (to Rachel) the time he'd gotten his foot stuck in the toilet of the couple's Brooklyn home. Apparently he'd wanted to know where the water went.

"It must be hard being away from them."

Finn nodded, starting to talk about how he'd just missed Rain's first steps. And Rachel wanted to pay attention. In spite of all their history (or maybe even because of it), Rachel cared about Finn and she was happy that he'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted. His family was beautiful, and she loved the kids to death. However, her phone buzzed on her lap and she couldn't help the way her eyes drifted down to try to inconspicuously read the incoming message.

_Shitty mtg w. execs all day. 2sday studio?_

Rachel didn't want to feel disappointed, and managed a vague acceptance to his text even though she'd only meant that she would be there and he would likely take it a different way. Regardless, it appeared she'd have to wait another full day just to see him again, and she hated that she felt deflated by that. Maybe she was capable of fangirling, after all.

"You're lucky to be home as much as you are, though," Rachel tried to console Finn even if she'd only heard parts of the conversation. "You had that whole first year with Hunter that you wouldn't have had if you'd chosen to play in Sam's band as opposed to Blaine's."

Finn nodded, somewhat surprised by her observation. He'd seen the magazine covers and heard the rumors, not to mention had been sitting at the table for the past half hour listening to it all, but he didn't necessarily believe it until just then. Sam didn't seem like Rachel's type, but they were obviously together if she could so easily recount his and Sam's history.

"Quinn was really the one who decided, but … yeah. It was good."

"Quinn decided?"

"I mean, I was leaning toward working with Blaine 'cause of Kurt and everything, but Quinn was really against moving to California. I kinda didn't want to move even farther from Ohio, but I would have, I guess. But she'd just gotten back from staying with Santana for that little bit, remember, and she'd said she'd hated it. And … well you know Quinn."

Rachel was pretty sure all three of them started to nod in a way that was probably offensive to Finn's wife, but she focused less on that and more on Finn's own reaction. He and the blonde had certainly had their ups and downs; they'd been off and on since high school, so it was no surprise that there were some twists and turns on their path. However, Finn's current expression and just the tone of his voice seemed a bit more morose than usual. He almost looked defeated instead of apathetic, which unfortunately was his usual expression when it came to he and Quinn's relationship.

"Is everything alright between you two?"

"It's … whatever." He shrugged again, this time toying with one of the fries left on his plate. Evasive and melancholy was one thing. Finn playing with his food instead of eating it was something else entirely. Something else that was serious. "It's hard."

"Because you're away?"

"No." Finn shook his head, and until he elaborated, Rachel had assumed the gesture was so vehementius for Blaine's benefit. He was, after all, the reason Finn was on the road and not at home. "Even when I'm there … then she's gone. I figure I owe it to her to help out with the kids when I'm in town, but it's like … every time."

"Quinn has plenty of help," Kurt supplied. "You guys have daycare _and_ a part-time nanny."

Rachel frowned at Kurt's response, knowing it was true but also knowing it wasn't helping the situation. His brother (and her friend) was basically admitting that his marriage was on the rocks, and there was that saying to not kick someone when they're down. "But that doesn't mean you can't rely on us to help either. Honestly, Finn, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me."

"You have no idea how many times a day I stop myself from calling you."

Rachel gaped at Finn's statement, not bothering to check Kurt and Blaine's reactions to ensure she wasn't taking his words too seriously. Their silence spoke volumes. And Rachel might not have been sure she had the time for a fake boyfriend and a real one, but she was absolutely sure she didn't have the time for a fake boyfriend, a real boyfriend _and_ an ex-boyfriend.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** You guys and all your feedback is amazing; I really love hearing what you guys think is going to happen (or just hearing about what you think of what has happened). As promised, there is some _direct_ Puckleberry interaction in this chapter - and **a lot **next chapter. :)

Thanks for reading (and please review)!

* * *

Puck collapsed onto the couch sitting inside his office, immediately using the crook of his elbow to cover his eyes from the bright lights shining above. "Whoever made the rule that morning shows need to start before fuckin' dawn was a real dick."

Sam rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer his friend. It wouldn't be worth it to explain that it wasn't all morning shows, nor would there be any point into mentioning that they should be grateful that anyone cared what Sam had to say at this particular juncture of his career. They'd had the discussion almost every time Sam had to do one of the early shows, and clearly his rebuttal hadn't made much of an impact the first dozen times. Plus, he was tired, too.

"I might need to pull a Rachel and have yet another cup of coffee."

Puck scoffed. "That chicks needs caffeine like an addict needs another lighter."

Sam chuckled at his friend's observation, moving around the room to sit behind Puck's desk. Checking the time, he felt a little more exhausted than he had before. It was only eleven and he'd already been awake for seven hours. The morning show'd had a nice spread out that Sam had taken advantage of when they got there and once more before leaving, but he was starving again. He needed a large coffee and a larger sandwich.

"Do you want anything from Big Al's?" Sam stood, closing the email system he'd opened on Puck's computer. "Rach is going to be here around lunchtime, so I figured I should eat now."

"Don't blame Berry for the fat kid living inside you." Puck smirked, finally moving his arm away from his face. His eyes squinted while they adjusted to the light, Puck hinging off the furniture slowly. "Grab me a number four. We can eat it in the studio."

Sam nodded, the two walking out of the office and parting ways at the next hallway, Puck toward the music room with his guitar and Sam toward the lobby with his wallet. He was already debating between ordering one sub or two despite being at least two blocks away from the deli-style restaurant. The good thing about it being early was that he wouldn't have to wait long to order. At least that's what he thought before noticing his fake girlfriend walking toward him.

"Rachel!" Sam waved, trying to get her attention before she passed him completely. "Hey!"

"Sam." She pulled out the one headphone that had been in her ear, smiling brightly at him. "I was just on my way to the studio." Then, in an instant, she frowned. "We did plan to meet this afternoon, yes?"

"No, yeah." Sam nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm just grabbin' some food beforehand. Big Al's. You want something?"

"No, thank you. I had a brunch meeting, which ended early and has now caused me to inconvenience you and your schedule."

Sam laughed. "It's no big deal, you know, assuming you don't mind me eating in front of you."

"Of course not." Rachel smiled, then looked in the direction his body was facing. "Is it far?"

"Not really."

Sam knew why she'd asked. She was going to join him, which wasn't exactly unwelcome. Their fake relationship aside, Sam enjoyed Rachel's company. She was really easy to talk to, and that had actually surprised him. She was so smart and so determined, but she was really down to earth. She wasn't caught up in herself like most women in the music industry. It was refreshing, but he obviously wasn't the only one who thought so.

Sam had been with Puck most of yesterday and all this morning, and despite his friend's best efforts, the topic of Rachel couldn't be avoided forever. They were, however, still guys, so the conversation didn't stem much past Sam learning that Puck had slept with her and was now in a fake relationship with Santana as a result. The last part, in fact, was what they'd more focused on, since Sam was curious if even a fake relationship might mean she would be open to a real one. With him.

"But it might take awhile. I've booked the same sound room we were in last time. Why don't you get everything ready," he gestured to the large bag that was slung over her shoulder. When they last spoke, she'd mentioned bringing some sheet music and samplings with her the next time. "I'll come back and can eat while we work."

Rachel agreed with a nod, accepting his kiss on the cheek before the two parted ways, her steps back to syncing with the heavy rhythm of the song playing from her smartphone. The receptionist in the lobby greeted her with a smile, and Rachel merely smiled back before walking down the hallway toward the studio room. Her steps slowed as her memory of which particular room her and Sam had last occupied wasn't as sharp as she'd thought. She turned off her music and started peeking through the small windows as she neared the end of the row. None were empty, but near the end she saw one very familiar occupant.

Noah was sitting on a stool in the room, strumming his guitar and moving gently to whatever he was playing. The rooms were soundproof and he had his back to the door, but Rachel could not only tell he was playing something, but by the way his muscles were moving at the back of his neck, she knew he was singing, too. And she wanted to respect his privacy, but a larger part of her was too curious about what he was singing and _how_ he was singing to not quietly open the door and sneak inside without him noticing.

The second the door cracked open, the sound of his beautiful voice filtered over her. She rested heavily against the inside of the door, her knees buckling a little as she just soaked in the sound of his voice. Rachel's ear was trained to hone out even the slightest off-key note, but she had yet to hear one. Much like his skills on the guitar, his voice was smooth, flawless even at a much higher register than she would have expected. And then, when the song changed tempo, it instantly changed turned rough and low. He sounded almost raspy, completely sexy.

"Guess who?" Rachel questioned quietly after she'd walked closer and used her hands to playfully cover his eyes.

Puck immediately stopped playing, practically jumping off the stool and turning around. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to be thorough impressed by your skills … again," she added flirtatiously. "Is that an original piece? I've never …"

"I was just messin' around."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows at the way he distanced himself from her, setting his guitar in the far corner of the room as if he was trying to hide its existence. "I-I'm sorry if … if I intruded." She bowed her head, embarrassed. She'd been thinking about their time together since he'd left early Sunday morning, and now it had been more than two days since she'd seen him and she'd _missed _him. From their text exchange during her lunch the other day, she thought he might have felt the same way, but his attitude suggested otherwise. "Please tell Sam I went to wait in your office."

Puck's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he fought with himself on what to do. He knew the difference between right and wrong, but this situation was somewhere between black and white and he'd never been good in the gray area. But, considering she looked like he'd punched her in the heart and he kind of hated it, he supposed it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to make her feel better. Or at least make her stay.

"Wait here." His voice was harsher than he meant it to be, so he tried again. "I mean, I'll wait with you. I was done anyway."

Rachel hesitated by the door, searching his face in the distance. His words told her to stay, but she wasn't sure if he was doing it as Sam's manager or because he genuinely felt bad for snapping at her. She knew he wasn't entirely at fault considering she'd invaded his privacy, however, so she accepted his somewhat-apology and walked back more into the room.

"For what it's worth, you sounded lovely."

Puck scoffed. "Like I'm going to believe you." He winked, the gesture relieving some of the tension he still felt after being caught by her. "I know you have a thing for musicians."

"I have a thing for _talented_ musicians," she clarified with a slight smile. She liked that he was the first to mention something from their night together. Maybe she wasn't the only one who couldn't stop thinking about it, after all. "Your voice is impeccable. In fact …"

"Get you wet?"

Rachel's open mouth gaped for a moment, then shut as quickly as her eyes narrowed. He'd been busying himself at the sound table on the opposite side of the room, clearly avoiding her. Then, when she'd tried to compliment him again, he'd brushed it off with a lewd comment. Considering she'd seen a slightly softer side of him, she knew that behavior was his defense mechanism. The question was, why was he defensive?

"Maybe."

Puck's head shot up, his eyes widening as he watched her saunter closer and closer to him. The pads of her middle fingers touched the bare skin of his wrists, trailing up his forearms and over the sleeves of his T-shirt before dipping down around the collar until both her hands rest flat against his chest. Her stare was intense, the fire from her touch nothing compared to the blaze of her dark, melted chocolate orbs. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her agonizingly close even though she leaned back to keep her eyes trained on his.

"Maybe I can't stop thinking about how talented those fingers are even without a guitar in your hand, or how your voice feels whispered against my neck."

Rachel let her hands wander over his body, her touch slow and methodical. She'd wanted to push him to the point where he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else but sex so she could get his guard down, but she hadn't accounted for her own defenses dropping. She could feel his abs clench in response to her proximity, could feel _other_ parts of his body react to her, too. The heat between them was palpable, causing her skin to flush with arousal.

"Or, maybe," she panted, trying to get the words out before her brain completely melted. His hands had moved from gripping her hips tightly to cradling her ass, holding the taut flesh possessively as his lips moved to her neck. She whimpered a little, forcing out, "Maybe I believe in you a little more than you believe in yourself."

The sound that escaped from low in Puck's throat was beyond primitive, his lips detaching from her neck only to fuse to her mouth a millisecond later. His tongue immediately sought (and was granted) access to her mouth, Puck swallowing Rachel's own primal sound. Her hands fell from his chest, gripping the sides of his shirt like a lifeline while his arms' hold around her tightened so much that it grew even harder to breathe. Parting on a sharp inhale, the two just stared at one another as their heavy breathing mixed between them.

Puck wasn't sure why he'd had the reaction he did. Plenty of other girls had tried to compliment him for one thing or another in his life, but he'd always ignored them. For all the Mars versus Venus bullshit, men weren't the only ones to say anything to get someone into bed. And at basically shoulder-height and weighing no more than a buck-twenty, Rachel should be as easy to brush off as any other woman. But she wasn't. She was a spitfire, full of ambition and righteousness and she made it impossible to think anything she'd said wasn't true.

Even if he'd lived the evidence to the contrary.

"Is Satan back yet?" He finally asked, his breathing slowly returning to normal but still coming out rather heavily.

Rachel hummed in the affirmative. "Late last night."

Puck nodded, kissing her once more before pulling away completely. He swore he saw her shiver from the loss of contact, and he had to remind himself that Sam was going to return any second. Otherwise, he'd pick the nearest flat surface and turn that frown upside down. "We'll finish this later." He didn't mean to growl, but her hands were running over her body to ensure everything was in the proper spot and it was driving him crazy. "I'll bring Sam so those two can hang out."

"Is that code for hook up?"

"Guess that depends on your friend." He grinned.

"Then, yes." Rachel's small smile started to fade, her hands wringing in front of her in nervousness. With her body still buzzing from their short albeit passionate interlude, she whispered, "Just … come early, okay?"

Their eyes met in a heated exchange, and the only thing that stopped each of them from propelling toward the other was Sam walking into the room. Hesitantly, the two simultaneously looked away from each other, honing in on the blond. He was carrying enough food for a small army and looked like he'd swallowed a hanger as he presented his cell phone out toward Rachel.

"Wow," Rachel remarked, grabbing the small handheld device to hold it closer. She used her index finger and thumb to zoom in on the picture as best she could. "That was fast."

"What is it?"

"Us," Sam answered Puck, throwing him a sandwich from the bag. "I ran into Rach on the way to Big Al's and I kissed her on the cheek before I left. Pic's totally going viral." Sam's smile spread even wider. "Hashtag cutest couple ever."

Puck fingers wrapped a little tighter around the sandwich, his feet moving him closer to Rachel to inspect the picture she was still looking at. It was kind of fuzzy and clearly taken on a camera phone, but there was no question; Sam was kissing Rachel. And he knew that the attention it was getting was a good thing, and this was all part of the plan - and Rachel's tongue had just been down _his_ throat - but fuck that noise.

"So, you're kissin' now."

Rachel handed Sam back his phone, blinking a little as she took in Puck's hard expression. She could hear the snap in his voice, though she couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. "We _are _dating."

"Yea, whatever. I know." He stalked away from the pair, ripping open his sandwich and stuffing a large bite into his mouth. With the food half-chewed, he said, "I just didn't know you were kissing."

Both Rachel and Sam watched Puck closely. They listened to him try to take the lift out of his voice, failing miserably with his mouth full or not. Somewhere between his patronizing remark about Rachel and Sam being good at improvisation and wondering whether or not there was anything else he of her manager should be made aware of before it appeared in the press, Sam tried to explain the situation. Rachel, on the other hand, sat back a little and basked at Puck's clear display of jealousy. He'd already proved to her that he wanted her, but wanting claim on her, though possessive, was just as exhilarating.

"I have an idea," she interjected, interrupting Noah's snarky comment about Sam needing to work out more than just lifting heavy sandwiches into his face. "Why don't you boys finish your lunch, and then we can all go back to my place to work on the duet or …" She trailed off, looking at Noah pointedly. "Hang out."

"I'm down," Sam said immediately, looking to Puck eagerly.

Puck, however, looked only at Rachel. His dick was telling him to go, but his brain was saying to back out. Jealousy was a dangerous emotion, too many connotations going along with it. Their relationship wasn't a one-night stand, but it also wasn't meant to be anything serious. Wanting to use the plastic bag from Big Al's to suffocate his best friend just for a platonic kiss on the cheek was pretty serious, though. Unfortunately, with her gaze so confident and so hot, Puck found himself agreeing, too.

Like he'd said. She was impossible to ignore.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Better late than never?

* * *

Rachel slid farther down Puck's sweat-slicked body, her head resting heavily on his abdomen. She was completely spent, and, given her head's harsh up and down movement caused by his heavy breathing, she knew he was no better off. Gathering her hair up and pushing it to one side, Rachel sighed once the air from the room made contact with her damp skin. She knew she must have looked awful at that particular moment, but she was too hot to make any effort to care.

"She can scream all she wants," Puck stated gruffly, the back of his hand swiping across his forehead to remove some of the sweat he felt sticking to the skin. "We win."

Rachel giggled, shaking her head a little as she settled her chin on top of her hands that were perched on his stomach. "She's a bit much."

"A bit?" His stomach rumbled with laughter, the only other sound being the partially-muted screaming of what they both knew was some vigorous activity between Sam and Santana in the latter's bedroom. "Poor Sam was tripping over his tongue in every way possible, and she just steamrolled him."

"I've known her for years and she's always the aggressor." She shrugged lightly. "She gets what she wants."

One of his eyebrows ticked up, a knowing smirk on his face as he said, "Ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black or whatever?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes, a pout forming even though she made no effort to move. If she did, he'd just be in front of her completely naked, and it was hard enough to hold a conversation with him staring at just the top half. "I'll have you know that I'm not the spoiled brat everyone assumes. My dads did pay for a lot of things when I was younger, but I worked my ass off every day to get to where I am, and I'm still pushing just to …"

"Whoa. Chill."

She huffed a little as he chuckled, resting the side of her head against his stomach again. There was a moment where she considered her literal position, and remembered that just being with Noah was a risk to all that work she'd done. But, when she felt him glide one of his hands through her hair, toying with the ends of the long locks, all her anger and all her worries immediately started to fade. The amused grin on his face when she looked back up pretty much sealed the deal.

"I'd pegged you for a screamer, not her."

"It's terrible for the vocal chords, I'll have you know," She stated matter-of-factly, sighing when she saw the time in her periphery. "Not to mention others' sleep cycles."

Rachel bit her lip, weighing the pros and cons of her next statement. They hadn't talked about anything that had happened at the studio since they'd left. The afternoon had been spent with the three of them working on the duet until Santana came home. Barely five minutes after that, Santana had told Sam that she liked that she made him tongue-tied, and then took him into her bedroom to, her words, unty it. Sadly, Puck and Rachel hadn't made it much longer after that, either; she was pretty sure they'd just passively worked out the jealousy issue considering it had been the best sex of her life, but his reluctance to talk about his musical past had remained unspoken of.

"Perhaps you could sing me a lullaby."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Subtle."

"Never been my strong suit," she admitted, crawling up to instead rest at his side. She draped one arm over his torso and tangled her legs with his, tilting her head up so she could see his eyes just in case those two things weren't enough to keep him in place. "You have a wonderful singing voice, Noah. Trust me. I lived in New York City for ten years. I've heard a wide range of artists with a wide range of skill sets, and I know talent when I hear it. You should try …"

"I did," he admitted harshly, groaning a little once the words came out. "I was basically handed my diploma and moved to the city in the same breath."

Puck never talked about what had happened after graduation. To anyone. Sam knew he'd moved to New York, but the blond had gotten a scholarship to play baseball at UCLA, so the two only talked a little via phone and email. His mom and sisters had known he wasn't dead, but even now he wasn't sure they ever knew where he'd been before going to LA - and they'd only found out about that because he had done some modeling gig for a magazine his sister had read. No one knew why he went or why he left.

Until now.

"I was always kind of shit at like, everything. 'Cept music. I'd learned the guitar completely by ear, and then was taught how to read music in some shitty middle school class." Puck looked away, staring at nothing but just not looking at her. "Sam gave me so much crap 'cause I skipped out on the epic graduation party that had been planned, but … I just couldn't wait any longer. I'd thought the stupid cow town had been holding me back long enough, and I was ready to go to New York and become this huge rockstar."

He laughed sardonically, his eyes closing in embarrassment that he'd ever thought something so stupid let alone was saying it out loud. To her. He'd never admitted any of this to anyone, and he really shouldn't be saying them to someone who, in Sam's words, was so out of his league. And yet he couldn't stop the words from coming out. She was just lying there next to him completely naked, and it would be so easy to use his mouth for other things, but he couldn't stop.

"I played everywhere. Dive bars, the subway, street corners. There was this little bistro that had a piano and the owner let me play at night while people ate." He sighed again, finally turning back to face her. "I was willin' to pay my dues. But, I worked so damn hard for like, three years and got fuckin' nowhere. Then Sam calls, sayin' I should move here and be a model with him and … I dunno. It was easy." He ran his one hand over his body in presentation, a slight smile on his face. "No denying this is good, ya know?"

Rachel ignored his tired attempt at humor, instead focusing on the pain she saw in his eyes. She knew what the city could be like. How harsh and unfair it might seem. Her experience certainly wasn't the same, but that first semester at NYADA before Kurt had come … she'd been so close to giving up. She'd felt so alone and the classes were so hard; she never would have made it through that kind of disappointment for three years.

"I know I don't know you that well," she blushed a little, ignoring the fact that they were lying naked together, "but you're the strongest person I know."  
Puck choked on his inhale, his eyes crinkling as he just watched her press a soft kiss to his shoulder before slinking down to rest her head against his chest. His one hand was useless as it was wrapped around her, but he used the other to pull her back up, staring at her hard, just waiting for her to break. He must have waited a full thirty seconds for her to crack, to burst into laughter and call him a loser or a nobody. But she never did.

So he kissed her.

It wasn't overly passionate or frenzied. He didn't maul her or just tease her lips. There wasn't any tongue and the only extra way he was touching her was the slight caress of his thumb where he'd grabbed her arm. He just kissed her. Languidly. Tenderly.

He kissed her like he'd never kissed anyone before in his whole life.

Rachel sighed blissfully, her eyes fluttering open after staying closed for at least ten seconds after he'd released her lips. "Wh-what was that for?"

Puck shrugged, honestly not having an answer - at least one that he could formulate into words. "I need a reason to kiss ya?" He asked, using the trapped arm to pull her closer; he wasn't normally in to cuddling, but it didn't entirely suck with Rachel. It was kind of nice, how her tiny, little frame nestled into his like it was molded to fit. She was so at ease, like she let down all her defenses because she knew he'd take care of her. Not many people trusted him like that.

"In my experience," Rachel moved back to his chest, frowning a little as she considered her past relationships (all while still trying desperately to remember that this wasn't a relationship). "Maybe not a reason, but permission … or a motive." She turned her head so the other side rested on him, her eyes looking up at him as he looked down. "I haven't had the best track record with men."

"I heard. The douche," Puck recalled, remembering the story Santana had told him the other day about the dude they'd both dated.

"If you can believe it, he's the best story I have."

Puck grinned. "So, you're sayin' I'm the best you've had?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, lifting her chin to rest on his pectoral. "Yes, but remember you aren't competing with an all-star cast." She snorted out a laugh when he shrugged, as if that didn't matter in the least. "Jesse was selfish, and Brody … well, he was kind of like you, actually. Was well too aware of his attractiveness." She giggled at his scoff, resting her head back on its side. "He'd always acted like it was some gift that he slept with me. I swear, he would have had sex with himself if it were possible."

"Dick." Puck couldn't imagine having Rachel and not knowing what he had. He didn't know when she did this Brody guy (and really, really didn't want to think about anyone else but him touching her), but if she was half as good in the sack as she was now, then the dude was lucky. "Legit, I've been with a ton of chicks and you're dynamite."

"I'm sure in your head that sounded like a compliment." She didn't look at him, kept her eyes trained toward the front of her bedroom. Her fingers danced lazily at his side, trying to appear casual as she asked, "Have you had many girlfriends?"

"Nah," he breezed, his hand trailing up and down her back. "You?"

"Noah," she chastised, again lifting her head so she could look at him. "I'm serious!"

"What?" He chuckled. "You and Satan shared a boyfriend. Can't blame a guy for being curious." He laughed more when she just pouted, then tugged her up and over his lap so her back pressed into her mattress and her legs hung over his side. "Very curious."

"Why is it that the idea of Sam kissing my cheek turns you into some possessive, green monster, but the idea of me and Santana together results in this?" She gestured at their current positioning. "If you want to be with someone who's experimented with their sexuality in that regard, then I return to my original claim before all this started. You picked the wrong roommate."

"Fuck," he groaned, dipping his tongue into the crevice of her collarbone. "You're fun to piss off." When her stern expression didn't budge, he sighed and moved back to his spot against her headboard, pulling her with him. "No, I haven't had a lot of girlfriends," he answered robotically before shrugging a little. "Much to my mom's dismay, I'm not exactly boyfriend material."

Rachel frowned, scooting a little further down so her hip rested against his, her one arm bracing herself while the other grabbed his hand on her leg. "You sound close with your mother," she said, bypassing the core of his confession to keep from scaring him off.

"Sorta. She's crazy and overbearing and …" He stopped, grinning a little as he flipped their hands so hers rested against her leg, palm open so his fingers could move over it. "Kinda like you."

"Ha ha," she deadpanned.

"I've always loved her, 'cause she's like, my mom or whatever. But … I dunno. I respect her more now." His eyes were trained on his fingers' movement over Rachel's hand, otherwise it might have struck him as weird to be talking about his mom while with a naked chick. "My dad was an asshole. The best thing he ever did was leave town right before my sister was born, but it sort of forced me to be the man of the house a little early, I guess."

"You acted out," she surmised gently.

"Yeah. Resident bad boy. Ya know, as if the guitar wasn't gettin' me enough chicks." He smirked, but she wasn't letting him off that easy. "I had to take care of my sister all the time and Ma is super into being a good Jew and … it took me awhile to understand how much she'd been through. Working three jobs instead of two so I could play football, never missing any of Sarah's girly event things. She was just playin' the hand she got dealt the best she could."

"I met my mother in the tenth grade." Rachel, too, focused on the movement of his fingers so she wouldn't feel the sting in her heart. "She was the vocal coach for a competing show choir in the area and she had their star performer form a relationship with me just so she could get closer. At the end, when I'd finally put all the pieces together and was so excited to have my birth mother in my life, she decided she'd missed too much of my childhood and ended up adopting the child of my one of my classmates." She snorted out a laugh. "I had to use every iota of what I'd learned from being in debate to ensure my fathers didn't sue. They're lawyers. Both of them."

"They sound like good guys," Puck said, seeing the way her face lit up when she spoke of them; he much preferred that expression to the hollow one from before.

"You'd like them." Her eyes went wide, afraid that might sound like she had some secret plan to have Noah meet her parents. His easy expression, however, calmed her nerves. "They'd like you, too. They've always told me that the true test of a man - though they've agreed to now use the word person - is how he (or she) responds when backed into a corner." She intertwined their fingers together and then moved again so she was back against his side. "You're ability to overcome adversity is very admirable, Noah."

"Just playin' the hand I was dealt, babe."

"Well, you should go fish," she pushed gently, not letting him brush her off so easily. Rachel yawned, nestling into him deeper as her eyes started to droop; after their amorous activity and then the long, deep conversation, her second wind was quickly fading. "Try again. The music business is all about who you know."

Puck didn't have the chance to make a joke out of her advice. Within seconds, her breathing evened out and she was asleep. He blamed the fact that he couldn't leave without Sam for why he tucked her further into him and then sunk down into the bed. Before he fell asleep, too, he considered her words and wondered if he did have a chance to make it now. Unfortunately, the only thing is brain focused on was whether he hadn't made it back then because he didn't know anyone in the music business or because he didn't know her.

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Sorry fonts and things suck. Posting from my phone. :(


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** I even remembered and then forgot again. FML! This chapter is super short, too, so I can't even say it was worth the extra wait, but hopefully y'all still enjoy!

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Rachel laughed, throwing her head back just to give herself a few more seconds to articulate her answer. She was just steps away from the freedom that came with her waiting car, but between the fans and the reporters Rachel had been stuck just out of reach for almost a half-hour now. Granted, she'd rather have this problem than _no one_ caring where she was or what she was talking about. But, still.

"He's extremely supportive, of course. Even though he's busy working on his own album, he's apparently been very involved in the planning for my album-release party - though I haven't been privy to those details!"

Rachel thanked the reporter for his question, signed another poster and posed for three more pictures before climbing into the back of the car. As soon as the door closed, she exhaled deeply, her head resting back heavily and her eyes closing. She'd done eight shows a week for Broadway, but nothing compared to the hustle and bustle of promoting an album. She had absolutely no question how Sam could have struggled for so long to find inspiration to write; she wasn't even touring yet and she was exhausted.

"You did great."

Rachel opened her eyes and sighed dreamily when she saw the tall cup of what she hoped was triple espresso coffee in her manager's hands. Gabby made it a point to practically hold Rachel's hand during this entire process. Nevermind the fact that she had other clients besides Rachel, not to mention a husband and twin daughters.

"They're already talking about your killer style, and the single is climbing the charts as we speak." Gabby grinned widely. "Not bad for a little radio show."

"And a candid Q&A session, no holds barred."

"You did great," Gabby repeated. "Sam should thank his lucky stars that he got fixed up with the best fake girlfriend ever."

Rachel's smile faded, her mind going back to some of the questions that had been asked. The hosts had obviously been curious about the single and the album, and they'd talked a little about her passion for style (that she'd credited to Kurt to help out his career, a little), but her love life definitely came up. And not all of it had been directly related to Sam, which made the questions a little more difficult to answer since she had another particular gentleman on her mind. In fact, he'd been on her mind all week.

"About that …" She started, waiting until Gabby was done typing a text/email on her phone and looked back up at her. "Do we possibly have an endgame in mind, for Sam and myself?"

Gabby stared back at her like she was speaking Korean, and Rachel started to fidget. She knew what must be going through Gabby's head. Sam was perfect. He was so sweet and wholesome and he was in the music business, too. The fake relationship aside, he was completely genuine and she knew they'd always be friends. But, she didn't want to _date_ him forever. She had someone else in mind.

"He's indicated the agreement was for until my album dropped, and I was just curious if there was a chance we could work something out sooner rather than later … on the off chance that another prospect … manifests."

Gabby dropped her hands to her lap, her voice hitching as she asked, "Are you seeing someone else?"

Rachel knew Gabby was her manager. She knew she was more than just interested because it was gossip. But, she also didn't have a lot of friends - even less in LA. Santana was gone again, and probably wouldn't want to hear anything Rachel was debating. Kurt was the only other person she could even talk to about it because he knew the truth about her pseudo-relationship with Sam, but he hadn't been exactly supportive the other day at lunch. Plus, if she didn't want to talk about the album-release party, then he didn't want to listen.

"I've been spending some time with … with Noah."

"Puckerman!" Gabby all-but shouted, her body quickly angling toward Rachel as the car wove through the streets of downtown LA in route to Rachel's apartment. "You're dating Puck?"

"We aren't dating, persay." Rachel bit her lip. That would not help her cause. "He's with Sam a lot and we've been … hanging out." Rachel tried not to smile at the small inside joke, and it was pretty easy since Gabby was _not_ amused. "We've been completely discreet, otherwise you would have heard about it by now."

"Rachel," she admonished quietly, shaking her head. "That is just … _not_ the right image for your key demographic," Gabby explained. "Down the road, after the album is out for awhile and whatever and you want a bad boy, then I can find you a bad boy. I know plenty. Any type you want, all much more talented and _much _more famous than Puckerman."

"I'll have you know Noah happens to be tremendously talented," Rachel snapped.

"I've heard."

Rachel scowled at the insinuation. She certainly hadn't meant sexually, and she didn't appreciate the fact that Gabby thought that was the only reason they were together. "And I'm not dating him because he's famous."

"I didn't mean that."

Rachel rolled her eyes. She may have started the conversation as a woman talking to her female friend, but that was not how it'd end. Gabby was preparing to backpedal faster than her life depended on it, thinking like a manager who doesn't want to piss off her client.

"Puck's very charming, and obviously attractive." She spoke slowly, as if trying to make sure every word sounded sincere. "But … he's _not_ boyfriend-material."

Noah had said the exact words earlier in the week, though they'd been parroted from his mother. And Rachel knew that they still had a lot to learn about one another, and she knew his past wasn't exactly filled with stable relationships. But she couldn't stop thinking about him. She couldn't stop thinking about how he made her feel or about how different he'd seemed when he was with her, like maybe she was causing _him_ to feel differently about himself, too.

"I'm falling in love with him," she admitted as the car stopped in front of her apartment, not waiting for Gabby's reaction before stepping out and into the apartment building.

It wasn't until the doorman commented on her lighting up the room did Rachel realize she was smiling; every other time she'd said or thought those words, it had been so serious. Finn was her first love, so it took a lot of effort just to get the words out and understand what they meant. Jesse and Brody were a little different, coming out almost forced just to define their relationships, almost. This time, the words felt so light that she could have said them over and over again.

Rachel walked into the apartment, swinging her purse a little before reaching for her buzzing cell phone.

"What colors are used on the cover art for your album? I know you said it was dark, but do you mean dark like black or dark like blue? I was hoping to coordinate the …"

"Hello, Kurt," Rachel interjected, smiling. "That's how conversations over the phone begin. With a greeting."

"I'll try to remember that for next time, Grandma Berry. Perhaps if I weren't forced to have a _conversation_ with your voicemail so much, I'd be better adept at the protocol."

"I told you I would be busy this morning."

"It's afternoon here."

"Well I've also told you countless times that I have no authority to alter the time zones." Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yet."

"You sound happy," Kurt segued, sighing heavily. "You aren't allowed to be happy because _I'm_ in marital hell and …"

"Oh no!" She interrupted, dropping her purse onto the kitchen counter. "What's wrong between you and Blaine?"

"Nothing. My marriage is fine. Blissful even. Take that, Capitol Hill."

Rachel rolled her eyes, opening the fridge and looking for something to eat even as she engaged him further, "I assume you are talking about Finn and Quinn, yes?"

"I knew things weren't great, but I feel like I'm back in high school," Kurt bemoaned. "I'm just waiting for you to storm into a room and demand a solo despite the fact that the song fits my voice better."

"Thanks," Rachel deadpanned, pulling out an iced tea and a small tupperware container of carrots. "I'm good here, though. Promise."

"Well can you make that a little more obvious to Finn? I swear, if I have to hear one more thing about how he doesn't think Sam is your type, I don't know what I'll do."

Rachel gulped down her sip of iced tea, scowling at the receiver as she said, "I'm awfully sick of people thinking they know what my type is or who I should be with."

"Someone's in a mood," Kurt said after a drawn-out cat hissing noise.

"You just said I sounded happy."

"That was before you jumped through the phone and down my throat," he pointed out quickly. "I take it someone found out about you and the stable boy?"

Rachel sighed, resting heavily against the counter. Part of her wanted to berate him for his snarky comments, but she'd known Kurt long enough to recognize which battles were worth fighting. "Gabby. She basically said he's bad for my career."

"He is." Rachel gasped, but Kurt ignored it. "Let's just set aside the monumental issue of what will happen if any of this leaks to the press; you're going to be on the road for basically an entire year. It's all fun and games now, but can you honestly tell me you trust him enough not to cheat? Do you even know he isn't seeing someone else now? From what you told me before, I wouldn't put it past him."

Rachel's mouth hung open. She had plenty of arguments to the contrary in her arsenal, but she couldn't push just one out. They were all clogging her throat, wanting to come out in a verbal lashing that was sure to be one for the books; she and Kurt often butted heads, but they were usually able to just roll their eyes or at least make up relatively quickly simply because they were such good friends. This time … Rachel could only hang up and pray he had the mind not call back.

Unfortunately, without his voice enabling her anger to rise, Rachel was left to just stew in it. She resisted the urge at least a dozen times to call him back and point out each instance in his life where he'd done something emotionally/socially/financially irresponsible and remind him how supportive she'd been. Instead, she scrolled past his name and locked in one just three letters away. She sent a quick message, not having to wait more than a few minutes for his reply.

_Go 2 Sam's. Gimmie 60._

She smiled at the plan, grabbing her purse and heading out of the apartment again. She hailed a cab and told the driver the address, settling in the back and doing her best not to think about anything. Not Gabby. Not Kurt. And certainly not the pesky voice in the back of her mind that was now wondering why Noah needed an entire hour when she knew they lived fairly close and that his office wasn't that far away either.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Another short chapter, I know. I'm sorry. They feel very meaty when I'm writing them, and then I look at the word count once i upload it and I'm like, "What the heck!" Anyway, it should get better (the word count and the story ... dun dun dun), but hopefully you enjoy nonetheless! Thanks to all!

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Puck chuckled to himself as he just lied in bed watching Rachel pace back and forth in the small guest room of Sam's apartment. He was still kind of light-headed after what was some of the most intense angry sex (way better when the two people aren't mad at each other) he'd ever had, but she was clearly still not over whatever had pissed her off so much. Her hands were moving just as wildly as her mouth, and she'd already shushed him once when he'd interrupted her tirade to make a joke about having to pay Sam to replace his carpet after she was done burning a hole in it.

"... Furthermore, I think she should remember that I hired _her_ and could very easily find someone else to manage my career. I'm the perfect client, not only because I'm extremely successful, but I do as I'm told. I'm driven and determined and have work on my mind nearly 24 hours a day. She should be so lucky that _this_ is the riskiest thing I've ever done. I could be out partying every night, saying inappropriate things to reporters and having pictures of my vagina sans underwear being taken all willy-nilly, but do I? No, because I am a professional. And my personal life should not dictate my professional life. They are completely separate and … why are you laughing?"

"You're bat-shit crazy, babe."

Rachel huffed, stomping her foot as her gaze narrowed on him. "Noah! This is serious. You should have heard her. She …"

"Legit, don't tell it again. I got it." Puck pressed his fists into the mattress, lifting himself up so his back rested against the headboard, the coolness of the wood welcome on his hot skin. "She ain't wrong, though."

"I _beg_ your pardon?"

"I'm just sayin'." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Manager to manager, I get where she's coming from." He shrugged helplessly. "We're walkin' on some pretty thin ice here, babe."

Rachel's frown deepened, her eyes losing the fire that had been present since he'd arrived to Sam's place. "You agree with her?"

Puck heard the hurt in her voice, watched the way her expression became hollow to cover up the muted insecurity he'd seen swimming in her eyes beforehand. He'd been thinking a lot about their relationship lately - ever since that night when he'd all but bared his soul to her. His response to her text earlier had been immediate, and he'd spent the entire drive back from his meeting (with a few of his connections in the music business, which he'd only set up because of _her_ and her encouragement) thinking about it.

Any other time, he would have ignored the text or told the chick he was busy. What made Rachel different? Why did he have this urge to protect her, to be there for her when (quite obviously) he couldn't help? Why had she been able to pry information out of him that he hadn't told a single other person before, including those that he'd list as closest to him (not to mention known much, much longer)? And, the one thing he'd kept coming back to during all these musing:

Why was the answer _so _obvious and not nearly as terrifying as it had been before?

"Nah," he answered as casually as possible, ignoring the scratch of his throat. "She just ain't wrong." His voice dropped even lower. "Ya shouldn't be with me."

Rachel's heart sped at the implication of his words. They'd both been so careful to avoid labels; neither had yet to use the word _relationship _to describe what they were doing, even if it were perfectly acceptable just from a friendship status. "Is that what you want? For us to not be," she held her breath, "together?"

His mind flashed to their first night together, and Puck couldn't believe it had only been a little more than a month since that night. _He'd_ been the one to convince her that they should do the casual thing; she'd given him the out and he'd talked her out of it. Now, here they were, and he still wasn't ready to give up on whatever it was going on between them. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready.

"I wanna, but it ain't my career thata take a hit."

Rachel beamed at his confession, her heart soaring so high that she couldn't think about how true his (and, therefore, part of Gabby's) words were. Instead, she took the few steps necessary to reach the foot of the bed and lifted her bent knee to the mattress. She considered crawling up his half-covered frame, but didn't want to get sidetracked again; she hadn't intended on having sex with him almost immediately after he'd showed up at Sam's, she couldn't help herself. She'd gotten so worked up over what Gabby and then Kurt had said that she just released all her tension on him.

His dazed-but-satiated expression told her he didn't mind, though.

"I suppose I can understand her vantage point," she finally resigned. "I'd just prefer to spend time alone with you outside of a windowless room under the illusion that you are sleeping with my roommate or I with yours."

"I dunno." He shrugged, hinging forward so his torso slumped over his legs slightly, his left hand moving so he could run his finger down her exposed leg, wishing she were still naked like him; she was still wearing her bra (it'd never come off) and had put her underwear back on before starting to recount her conversation with Gabby. "I kinda like the seclusion." Puck smirked when she shivered from his touch. "Not that sex in public isn't worth it."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That's not exactly what I meant," she clarified, ignoring the way her heart beat harder just thinking of being with Noah in that capacity. "I don't want to go to the party for my album and have to pretend to barely know you." She pouted more. "Although, to be perfectly honest, I don't want to go to my party at all now. Kurt is driving me insane."

"Short trip," he joked, moving back to his reclined position. He could feel another rant coming, so he figured he should get comfortable.

"I'm grateful he's going through the trouble of taking over all the planning, but he's calling or texting every other minute, which defeats the purpose. I gave him a required guest list and a few other key decisions, but I'd assumed he'd handle the rest." She sighed heavily, realizing she probably sounded like a brat. She almost expected him to start humming the tune to _It's My Birthday (And I'll Cry If I Want To)_. "Plus, he's been playing messenger for his brother and that's just awkward."

"I didn't know he had a brother."

"Yes you do," Rachel giggled, shaking her head. "Well, it's his step brother. My and Santana's ex-boyfriend." She sighed again. "He's apparently having marital problems, and it's always the same thing with Finn. If there's something going on between him and Quinn, he will always turn to either Santana or myself."

"Wait … what?"

Rachel scooted closer, her smile warm. "Don't worry. I've dealt with this since high school, and I'm no longer remotely interested." She bit the corner of her bottom lip, bravely letting her hand lift to curl around his bicep. "Despite how much I enjoyed it, there's no need to show your possessive side again."

Puck couldn't move, could barely think. Part of him was still focused on Rachel, on the feel of her hand against his skin and the look in her eyes that told him she'd calmed down enough for some non-crazed (but still awesome) sex. The other part, however, kept replaying her words and trying to figure _how_ he could have missed so much. "_Finn_ is your ex? Finn Hudson?"

"Yes." She looked at him quizzically. "You knew that."

"No." He couldn't stop the short, incredulous laugh that escaped. He hurried out of bed, picking up his boxers on his way and putting them on before resuming Rachel's spot so he could now pace. His mind was somehow moving at a mile-a-minute pace and yet was focused solely on one thing. "Ya said you knew him. Ya didn't say you _did_ him."

Puck knew he was overreacting. Not necessarily for the situation, but for him. He was just so caught off guard that it felt like an out of body experience. His physical self was in the room with Rachel, but the rest of him was back two years ago in a similar room with a different girl. She was telling him that she'd been lying to him for the past six months and that she was going back to New York, to her fiance. She was engaged to Finn, who Puck was trying to get to play in Sam's band as his first contribution to the blond's career after Puck had finally agreed to be his manager.

"Noah," Rachel chastised softly, scooting to the edge of the bed and letting her feet dangle as she watched him. "We haven't been together since high school; there's no need to be jealous."

Puck's blood boiled at the thought of losing _another _girl to Finn fucking Hudson. It had sucked before, but most of his anger had been wrapped up in all the other shit that went down between him and his ex. This time, with Rachel … just the thought was almost too much. Then again, the thought that Puck had Rachel and Finn clearly wanted her (or wanted her again now that there was trouble in paradise) was sort of gratifying. Like he'd lost the battle but could easily win the war.

"We are friends, though; he will be at the party." Rachel felt herself holding her breath, worried the history between Noah and Finn would cause tension at the party. It was clearly already affecting him if his suddenly brooding aura was any indication. "And, given the problems between him and Quinn, I'm positive she'll make some excuse to not attend, which means there will be nothing to stop him from following me around all night asking question after question about Sam."

Puck had anticipated being forced to explain his behavior, but there was a silver lining in Rachel's nervous rambling. If Quinn wouldn't show up, then did he have to tell Rachel anything?

"Put on some clothes!" Sam shouted, knocking on the door and effectively interrupting Puck's thoughts and Rachel's questioning. "I can't believe I'm knocking on my own door."

"What?" Puck practically growled as he swung open the door, his stare growing even harder when Sam dared to look up and down his frame before looking over at Rachel (who had thankfully been of the mind to cover herself with the sheet).

"You could be a little nicer." Sam grinned, not deterred by his friend's sour mood. "After all, I am letting you defile my guest room while Santana is out of town."

"What do you have there, Samuel?" Rachel asked sweetly, overdoing it a little to counteract Noah's harsh welcoming.

Sam smiled, presenting the small radio out and turning up the volume. "Just thought you might want to hear this."

_We got our feet on the ground_

_And we're burning it down_

_Oh, got our heads in the clouds_

_And we're not coming down_

_This girl is on fire_

_This girl is on fire_

_She's walking on fire_

_This girl is on fire_

Rachel smiled shyly, looking away from Noah's clearly impressed gaze. She knew he'd heard it before; the song had been out since right before they first met - the first time she'd heard it playing was through her cell phone after Kurt had called her screaming like a fangirl. She'd been so excited that she didn't even bother reminding him that there was a three-hour time difference between New York and California and he'd woken her at four in the morning - and he'd randomly commented one day on how it wasn't as "Broadway-y" as he'd expected. It wasn't much of a compliment (though, now knowing him, it was more than what most people get), but seeing his expression and how he _still _seemed blown away by her talent was enough for her.

"Thank you, Sam," she finally said, looking to the blond. "But I've heard the single on the radio already."

"It's not just a single." Sam turned the song up as high as it would go, speaking louder. "It is now the number one single."

Rachel's mouth hung open, her eyes widening milliseconds before her mouth followed. Her smile was blinding, and if it hadn't knocked the wind out of him, the way she'd jumped from the bed and into Puck's arms certainly would have. She squealed in his ear and he couldn't help but laugh at her reaction, holding onto her just as tightly as he spun her around in celebration; it was at that moment - or maybe the next, when he finished the last spin and used her back and the force of his body pressed hotly against hers to push the door closed; Sam called out a "you're welcome" before it shut in his face and he started to walk away - that Puck decided he wouldn't tell Rachel about his past.

She was his now, and that's all that mattered.

* * *

**Author's Note: **To clarify, there was a goof in the timeline on this story (caused by one wrong word in a previous chapter that ruined everything. Go figure). In chapter 10 Rachel mentioned she'd been thinking about him all "week", but it was supposed to say "month". Hopefully this doesn't pull you too far out of the story and everything still flows fine (and you aren't too depressed about missing so many days of secret Puckleberry hookups). LOL!

**Disclaimer:** The song used is Alicia Keys' "Girl on Fire". I think Lea could kill that song, and it is kinda perfect for Rachel and her narcissistic self. Haha. As a side note,if there is anyone who knows how to insert a break in the text so song lyrics don't smush together, I would LOVE to hear it. If you've read my stuff, you know it isn't rare for me to put in song lyrics, and this happens EVERY time. I've tried adding little asterisks and whatever and it just deletes them. I've added HTML coding and it shows up as working, then I click save and the breaks go away. So frustrating!


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Just barely made it on this one! And, sorry in advance. I couldn't resist. :)

* * *

Puck strolled behind Sam on the sidewalk, wondering why his friend was walking with such purpose. They were on their way to Rachel's album-release party, and the place was only a few blocks away. "Dude. What's the rush?"

"We're late."

"You're not gonna be able to sleep with Santana until later, ya know."

"This isn't about Santana." Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring the trail his mind tried to go down; the Latina had been away on business for almost two weeks. He wasn't hurrying to see her, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking forward to it. "People think I helped with this thing, so I'd wanted to be early."

"You? Help with the party?" Puck scoffed.

"Just because I didn't have strippers like you wanted doesn't mean my party wasn't totally epic." Sam shook his head. "Can you believe it was three years ago, next month?"

Puck nodded his head, though he'd meant for it to show how shocked he, too, was at how fast time had gone. That first year was a whirlwind of activity, from guest spots on late-night shows and then touring. Sometimes Puck still wondered if he could have done more (especially now with Rachel buzzing in his ear about his own talent), but it was hard to regret his decisions when he was able to do so much as Sam's manager. He'd met people others only fantasize about, traveled to places he'd never even heard of before and was paid a pretty decent amount of money to basically hang out with his best friend.

Definitely way better than any pool cleaning gig.

"We should celebrate," Puck said, smirking when he added, "I'll hire the strippers."

"You're the worst manager ever," Sam joked as he pulled the door to the restaurant open, frowning a little once he saw how busy it already was. Kurt had reserved the entire space for the party, but there was still at least 50 people already mingling in the area. Finding the short brunette was hard enough without a crowd. "See her?"

Puck nodded a fraction of an inch, his eyes practically glued to her body the second he'd spotted her talking to what he guessed was a reporter. Her hair cascaded down her back in full waves, the highlights springing to life under the dim lighting of the restaurant and popping against the deep chocolate base. Her dress was black, but far from simple. It looked like it was formed to fit her frame, and the two cut-out triangles directly under her tits helped show just how amazing her body was. The hem hit high on her thighs, leaving an insane amount of bare leg (for anyone, let alone someone so tiny) on display, before she punctuated the outfit with devil-red heels.

She must have felt his stare, because she suddenly turned her attention from the reporter to the front, her smile managing to grow even wider when she spotted them. Sam started to move to meet her in the middle, but Puck lagged behind, caught up in her beauty yet again. Typically Rachel's makeup was very subdued, which he actually preferred; she was beautiful without all that crap. But tonight, Kurt had clearly advised her to amp it up to complement the outfit, pushing her from beautiful to downright sexy. Her eyes were smoky and screamed _come hither_, and her lips were red like her shoes and so plump and perfect that he couldn't believe he'd have to keep her at arm's length all night.

"Sam!" Rachel squealed, wrapping her arms around the blond's neck but keeping her eyes focused on Noah. She could see his desire for her across the room and it made her heart beat wildly - not to mention what he was doing to other parts of her body. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Of course," he stated, finally letting her go and keeping a smile on his face while she moved on to hug Puck.

"Snaps, babe," Puck whispered in her ear, daring to place a small kiss on the curve of her jaw before releasing his loose hold around her waist. Rachel's hands lingered on his body as long as she felt was appropriate - running from around his neck, down his chest and then across his wrist before detaching completely - and he couldn't help but grin. He seriously doubted he could convince her for a quickie in one of the bathroom stalls, but it was at least nice to know he wasn't the only one who was thinking this night would be torture.

"I'm sure you're starving," Rachel mentioned merrily, her voice fake to cover up her disappointment that she couldn't treat Noah the way she wanted (or the way she would in public; how she _wanted_ to treat him at that very moment wouldn't be appropriate no matter if everyone knew they were together or not). She focused on Sam just to avoid the sinking feeling in her stomach. "You always are, after all."

"Not always," Sam argued with a smile, moving toward the buffet with Rachel and Puck in tow. "I can't believe how many people are here. We were just talking about my album-release party, and I think there's already more people here now than were at mine at the busiest."

"A lot of people aren't able to make it, actually," she stated, hoping that didn't sound as arrogant as it could have been taken. "Broadway never sleeps, as they say."

"_They_ being musical dorks," Puck said, using the joke as an opportunity to rustle her hair playfully.

"Whoa!" Kurt announced in a volume that wasn't necessary considering he was only a few feet away. "Easy with the masterpiece, Puckerman."

"Kurt did my hair," Rachel stated absently, hoping her facial expression hid the fact that she was more joking than annoyed with her best friend.

"I like it," he practically growled, his eyes sweeping over the long strands once more.

Kurt and Sam shared an uncomfortable look, the latter asking Kurt about the culinary options in an effort to give the couple a chance to talk semi-privately.

Rachel squirmed under Noah's scrutiny, sighing, "I wish I could stay …"

"S'cool. Go do your thing." Puck nodded toward the many people he knew were waiting to talk to her. "We'll talk later."

She nodded simply at his assurance, but Puck knew it wasn't going to be that easy. He'd been thinking (way too much) this past week about how his decision to keep his past from Rachel. There were a lot of valid reasons, including but not limited to the fact that it was _in_ the past and had no bearing on his future (_their_ future), but more and more he thought it might be better to just tell her. He would have never thought so before - he'd been in the camp of believers who didn't think it was cheating if you were in a different zip code or if you were too drunk to remember what'd happened - but even though he hadn't lied about anything, it still felt wrong to withhold the truth.

Plus, if the roles were reversed, and Rachel had some sordid past with Sam, he'd want to know. And it wasn't because of how it would affect his life, but how it pertained to hers. Or visa versa, in this case, as Quinn didn't matter to Puck but she did matter to Rachel - if only by association. An association with Finn, who Puck couldn't help but be anxious to finally meet. Puck had watched a bunch of clips on YouTube of Finn drumming back when he was trying to get Finn to be in Sam's band, but he'd never met him and couldn't help but want to see what was so special about the guy.

From what Puck'd seen, Finn was kind of bumbling and awkward, which made sense for why he'd ended up with Quinn (or even Santana); he probably didn't have enough backbone to tell her to stop being a bitch. But for the tall guy to have an on-again, off-again relationship with Rachel? Sure, Quinn was obviously hot and he wasn't going to pretend like he hadn't had feelings for her, but there was no question which was better when comparing the blonde and the brunnette.

Puck's gaze moved across the room to again hone in on Rachel, his mind considering all her amazing qualities in comparison to the blonde's short list. Unlike Quinn, Rachel was beautiful on the outside and on the inside. She'd earned everything she got and didn't take any of it for granted. Rachel cared about other people besides herself, and she wasn't a cheating, lying … he shook his head, getting sidetracked. The point was he almost regretted that Quinn wouldn't be at the party; it would be some sort of poetic justice to meet the guy who'd been perfect for Q when she thought Puck was a loser and who'd dated Rachel on and off while the latter was on Puck's arm.

See ya, and raise ya.

"She's like a hummingbird on crack."

Puck looked away from Rachel, nodding his head in agreement as Kurt tried to appear casual next to him. He was failing miserably, the way he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms certainly giving away how uncomfortable he was. "Nice party."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled wide.

"Lots of hot chicks."

Kurt's smile immediately sunk, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously when Puck looked at him through the corners of his eyes. "I don't know what Ray told you, but it was nothing personal." He tried to stay firm, but his hands were almost shaking. "I'm just trying to protect her."

"Look at her," Puck said sternly, his own eyes drifting to the brunnette in question. She was pointing toward the food to one set of people while also introducing someone to another person. She was completely confident and it managed to make her even sexier. "She don't need protectin'."

"You might want to tone it down," Santana advised as she appeared in front of Puck, her and Kurt sharing a heated look before the latter scoffed and walked away. Puck watched the exchange with mild interest, cocking his eyebrow at the Latina in intrigue. "He hates me."

Puck laughed at how casually she'd said it, as if she couldn't care less and was mostly just bored with it all. "Get in line, I guess."

"It's not so bad." She shrugged, exchanging her empty glass for a new flute of champagne from one of the waiters walking by, and then grabbing another. "You don't have to hear his whiney voice nearly as much."

"Noted."

Puck's attention had once again moved back to Rachel, the sound of her melodic laugh creeping past the people between them and into his ears. He was trying to think of any reason he'd have to talk to her without being obvious when Rachel's gaze moved off of some photographer to land directly on him. He could almost see the sparkle in her eyes from his spot across the restaurant, and he most definitely saw the purposeful way she'd licked her lips before answering whatever question the guy in front of her asked.

"Gawd, I said cut it out," Santana bemoaned, downing the rest of her one drink and all of the other. "The press is straight-up retarded, but it ain't hard to see you two eye-fuckin' each other every chance you get."

Puck chuckled as he watched the Latina leave, almost considering following her to make sure she didn't drink her body weight. Instead, though, he took her cue and cut through the crowd in the opposite direction - toward Rachel. The pull was almost gravitational, the brunette similarly sliding past a few nameless faces until they met in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. She smiled shyly at him even though her flushed cheeks told him her thoughts were far from timid, and he couldn't have stopped the way his hand trailed down her arm and secured her wrist.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly, a smile playing on her lips, "I've met so many new people this evening. You are, again?"

He grinned wickedly, leaning in so his mouth was practically pressed against her ear, allowing him to speak in a low register that wouldn't just keep their conversation private but also realize she was playing with fire. "I'm your _biggest_ fan."

Rachel blushed but didn't dare move away, reveling in the feel of his touch (albeit scarce). "You must be. You've been watching me all night."

"Night's far from over, babe. Trust me." He groaned when she pulled away, stranding back upright even though he kept his eyes on her. "Ya better find time to eat somethin' 'cause you're gonna need your energy."

"And they say chivalry is dead," she joked, possibly just to steer the conversation away from _very_ dangerous territory. "You're probably right, though. I should definitely make a plate before Finn shows up. He's been known to shut down buffets."

Puck tried to smile at her joke, but all he could think about was what he'd told Kurt. Rachel didn't need protection, from Kurt or even from him; she was a strong, independent woman who'd already proved capable of rolling with plenty of punches. But the last thing Puck wanted to be was another wave she was forced to ride out. And considering the fact that it took nearly an hour for him to get another moment alone with her and more and more people were walking into the restaurant, this might be his only chance.

"I need to talk to you."

Rachel nodded dumbly, trying to ignore the way her heart jumped into her throat as she followed him further away from the crowd. There was an area in the restaurant that wasn't as heavily crowded as everywhere else, though it wasn't nearly secluded enough for her to stay so close to him; the limited space of the rest of the area was never more welcome than when she'd been pressed against him out of necessity rather than coincidence. "Is everything okay?"

"I probably should have told you this earlier … and I definitely probably shouldn't tell you now 'cause it's your party and whatever, but …"

Puck trailed off, not sure how to start. He didn't have all the time in the world, and he wasn't big on long conversations about feelings and shit to begin with. He just wasn't sure how to summarize what was basically three years of his life (all added up) that basically boiled down to him fucking her ex's wife. Unfortunately, while he thought about it, Finn and Quinn entered the restaurant; he immediately broke away to head to the buffet, but the blonde pointed to the edge of the restaurant where she saw Rachel talking to some guy.

"Surprise!" Quinn said as she walked up to Rachel, gasping when the unknown male whose back had been facing the front entrance turned and locked eyes with her. His managed to widen and narrow in the same second, her voice lowering from the high-pitched inhale of breath to almost a growl. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Rachel rocked back to her heels - clearly the hug would be postponed - and looked to Noah and then Quinn. "You two know each other?"

Puck couldn't stop the sardonic chuckle that slipped out, a rush of old feelings suddenly coursing through him. It wasn't that he still held a candle; he'd moved on (to someone far better than the blonde), but he'd never gotten any closure back when everything went down between them. He hadn't been able to call her out on what a deceitful, manipulative bitch she was (and probably still is).

"No," he finally answered, his voice bitter. "Not really."

Quinn glared at Puck, then looked at Rachel for the first time since he'd turned around. "Are you dating him?"

"No," Rachel answered immediately, her voice tense as her eyes shifted awkwardly around the area to see if many people were listening to their conversation. "I'm dating Sam. Noah is his manager."

"Hey, Puck!" Sam announced as he approached, Finn in tow. "Look who it is. The one that got away!"

Sam and Finn shared a friendly chuckle, but they were the only two smiling in the group. At one point in time, Puck might have very well used that phrase to describe Quinn, and Rachel awkwardly wondered if Finn would think the same of her. Before Noah, there were times when she'd considered the same thing of him.

"Congratulations, Rach." Finn leaned in for a gentle hug, settling back next to Quinn but not too close.

"Isn't that nice?" Puck mentioned, his voice a bit perkier than usual. "Two ex's able to stay friends? Interacting in front of their new mates, even."

"Noah," Rachel placated softly, her eyebrows furrowing together at his behavior. She'd been worried he would react negatively to Finn's appearance after she'd told him that Finn might still have feelings for her, but she hadn't expected him to be so … barbaric. "Finn and I have been friends much longer than we were more." She smiled at Sam, who'd linked their fingers together - more than likely just to remind her where they were. "And Finn and Quinn are married!"

"Big anniversary coming up?" He asked, the fake happiness still present in his voice even if there was a lilt that both Sam and Rachel had noticed but couldn't pinpoint.

"Three years in July," Finn beamed, rubbing his hand down Quinn's back, trying to relieve whatever was causing her to be so tense. Obviously they were having problems and talking about their marriage wasn't the best situation, but normally Quinn was so adamant about keeping a happy face. It was partially for the kids, but she was also so worried about what other people would think.

"I'm sure Kurt has big plans."

"Hope it's better than this snoozer," Santana stated, inserting herself in the conversation even before she'd joined the circle. Her steps were uneven and a bit dramatic, everyone suspecting the empty flute of champagne in her hand that clearly wasn't her first. "Hi, Finny."

"Puck," Sam began evenly even though he was losing feeling in his hand courtesy of Rachel's tight grip. "Maybe take your _girlfriend_ to get some coffee?"

"You're Santana's boyfriend?" Quinn scoffed.

"Yes," Santana wiggled out of Puck's grip on her elbow. "But I think he's sleeping around on me."

Rachel gasped, panic in her voice. "Santana, perhaps …"

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Q?"

"What is she talking about?" Finn asked, looking between the two women.

Quinn looked from Santana to Finn, then to Puck, glowering at him. How dare he have the audacity to just stand there and do nothing but smirk.

"Oh. My. God." Santana steadied herself, looking from Quinn to Puck and back again at least twice before she smiled like a cheshire cat. "It was _you_!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** This always happens to me. Chapters that I think are really meaty tend to run short. Oh well. Brevity is key, right? Please enjoy (and tell me why ... or even why not)!

* * *

Both Sam and Rachel tried again to divert the Latina, but Santana quickly squirmed out of their grasps to center herself between Puck and Quinn. "_You_ were the guy. The back of the head I saw!"

"What's going on?" Kurt asked, joining the circle when he'd seen Rachel's distressed look from across the room. His brother had promised him to behave during the party, and had looked to even be making an effort with Sam earlier, but clearly something was not right.

"This is incredible!" Santana was practically giddy, which was just more evidence that she was more than drunk. "I've taken the fall for you _twice_ now, buddy!"

"I don't understand," Finn stated dumbly, his hand falling from Quinn's back as he stepped to the side and forward to angle his body more toward his wife than the whole group. "Quinn?"

The blonde looked up at Finn pathetically, the tears already forming in her eyes. She reached out desperately for his hand when she felt him move away out of reflex, but her eyes drifted back to Santana. Her and Finn had been fighting so much recently about this party and his obvious lingering feelings for Rachel that Quinn had completely forgotten how much of a threat her former cheer-mate was in her and Finn's happily ever after. And, well, she'd never considered Puck an issue until about 15 minutes ago.

"Please, just remember this was a _very_ long time ago and …"

"No," Kurt breathed, his mouth gaping open as Quinn's words registered in the far recesses of his mind, pulling forward things he hadn't thought about in years other than in passing for when people wondered why he hated Santana. Slowly his gaze moved from the blonde to Santana. "All this time … you … lied?" He could almost feel the connections being made inside his brain, like little jolts of electricity. "But … _why_?"

Santana's drunken stupor seemed to be fading slowly, the Latina slumping a little before Sam moved both him and Rachel just enough that Santana could rest on his shoulder. She smiled up at him sweetly, but his attention was more focused on the crowd of people outside of their circle. All watching Rachel, whose gaze hadn't left Puck's since Santana's sudden outburst of a revelation - which he still wasn't clear about, but could tell it was serious and likely the real reason for Puck's animosity toward Finn (something else he'd never been clear about).

"It made sense at the time." Santana shrugged lazily, lifting herself upright once more. Her eyes were wide and much less guarded than usual; it would have been refreshing if she weren't managing to ruin so many lives at once. "We never would have worked out, Frankenteen."

The group dynamic had already been uncomfortable, but it grew tenfold after the longing stare Santana set on Finn; Rachel had always worried her friend was still in love with the tall man, but considering their own history (both hers and Santana's _and_ hers and Finn's), they'd never talked about it. Now she wished they had because it was clear Santana had been holding on to a lot over the past few years.

"Santana," she began softly, trying to remain as calm and professional as possible given they quite obviously had an audience now. "What exactly happened?"

"Q butt-dialed Kurt's phone while some dude was screwing her brains out, and I let Fairy Dust think it was me to protect Finn." Santana yawned, lazily pointing to Puck. "Some dude."

Rachel once again locked eyes with Noah, willing him to step in and defend himself. Wanting desperately for him to deny it all, to assure Santana that she was wrong about him and what she thought she knew. Instead, his eyes continued to hold hers (just as they had during the entire encounter, never once breaking despite everyone trying to gain his attention at least once) and in his eyes she saw the truth. She saw so much more - pity, anger, sorrow, regret and maybe even love - but the only thing she dared pay attention to was the truth … and how he hadn't told her it sooner (and/or how she hadn't recognized it before now).

"Rach, wait!" He called out as soon as she turned to leave the restaurant, passing reporters and supporters and anyone else in her way without so much as a fake smile. He followed her retreat in a similar fashion, ignoring Sam and even Quinn as they pleaded for him to come back and help piece everything together. He didn't care about Sam's hurt expression or Quinn's marriage spiraling out of control. The only thing that mattered was currently standing in the middle of a semi-dark sidewalk, trying desperately to not let her emotions get the best of her.

"This whole time?" She whispered, her back turned. She refused to cry if only because she didn't want to ruin her makeup, but she couldn't look at him; she couldn't let him see how heartbroken she was. She couldn't let _anyone_ see it, which was almost worse. "You lied the _whole_ time?"

"I didn't lie."

"Don't," she snapped, whipping around angrily. "Don't _manager_ me, Noah." Her nostrils flared, her hands clenched in fists at her side. "You knew I knew him. You knew and you didn't tell me."

"What was I supposed to say? Hi, my name is Puck. Oh, and, hey, I fucked that dude's wife?"

Rachel turned back around, trying to hide her reaction from the people who'd started to gather on the patio of the restaurant; it was obvious why there was a sudden interest to look outside and it had nothing to do with the beautiful night or the clear sky. "Why do you have to be so crass?"

"You used to like that about me," Puck pointed out, stuffing his hands in his pockets as his mind went back nearly five years when he was living in New York. He'd told Rachel all about how he'd tried to make it as a musician and how he'd played a lot of local gigs, but even though he'd told her more than he'd ever told anyone else, he'd still left out a lot - including everything about the first time he'd been with Quinn.

They'd met at some dive bar she'd gone to with some friends from her school. They'd apparently dared her to hit on him after too many girly drinks, and Puck didn't have the decency or maturity back then to turn down a drunk girl, especially not a hot one. Their relationship had stayed the course for more than a year, her finding him at random bars and them spending an undetermined amount of time hooking up before she had to go back to Connecticut. Puck was living the rock-star dream, a legit groupie hanging on his every written word.

Eventually, though, the dream turned into a nightmare, Quinn pestering him about when he was going to grow up and do something with his life - _"You never think about the future!" Quinn yelled before Puck said, "You used to like that about me."_ She got wet over the guitar, but she couldn't get off without any money attached to it, apparently. The summer before her senior year at Yale, she fucked him one last time before saying she couldn't end up with a loser, and he never saw her again until a little more than a year later when she'd shown up in California.

"I risked everything for you," Rachel admitted sadly, holding back the sob that was keeping down the bile that also wanted out. She'd known his past was far from celibate, but she couldn't bear the thought of sharing _another_ man with Quinn. It was hard enough competing with the blonde in high school; she couldn't do it anymore. Pathetically, she repeated, "You should have told me."

Puck quickly stepped to the side, grasping her hips desperately when she turned and tried to walk back toward the restaurant. "I tried." His voice hitched uncharacteristically, his touch pleading.

"You should have tried harder!" She shouted, pushing his hands away and stepping forward just to shove at his chest. "Do you know how ridiculous I feel right now?"

She huffed in resentment, trying so hard to block out the sound of her own voice from echoing around them. Kurt had put her album on repeat and to hear the words now when she'd just been thinking about her next album and the songs of passion and love in relation to her relationship with Noah that she'd write was too much. She'd been so blind. And deaf, as she'd been warned by more than one person to be careful.

"I stood up for you, yelled at my manager and best friend for you. I was falling in love with _you_." She hiccuped, breathing back yet another onslaught of powerful emotions she couldn't show. "And you didn't even care enough about me to tell me the truth?"

"I wanted to tell you," he admitted gravely. "I just … I didn't know what to say."

He sighed heavily, thinking back to when Quinn had showed up in California. They'd bumped into each other at one of his modeling gigs, and he'd wanted to hate her, but she just kept telling him how proud she was that he'd seemed to have gotten his life together and it didn't take much more than that before they started sleeping together again. She was staying with a friend (Santana, evidently) while seeing if she could make it as an actress or model, and with them finally having a common interest, he'd actually thought they might _be_ something.

Unfortunately, six months into it, Quinn wasn't getting anywhere and she took her frustration out on Puck. That had been around the time Sam had been discovered and left modeling to start his music career and wanted Puck to be his manager. Puck had thought Quinn would be excited for him, to finally make it in the career that had attracted her to him in the first place, but he'd been wrong. When he'd told her about his first act as manager, trying to sign Finn Hudson as Sam's new drummer, Quinn completely flipped out; she'd told him the only reason she was _pretending_ to like him again was because she'd hoped he'd help her get some exposure in the modeling world. Since that wasn't happening, she was going back to New York. Back to her fiance, Finn, who she hadn't mentioned to Puck before that night.

"She used me."

He'd never said the words before, never even really thought them. Puck had always tried to convince himself that everything that happened between them had just been another thing between him and some broad, but Quinn had been different. She was everything Puck had thought he would never be able to get (to deserve) and when he'd been proven right, it had crushed him. Now, however, with Rachel, he'd finally let himself believe that not only had he been wrong about what he'd been looking for, but that he might honestly deserve her - mostly because she seemed to believe it all first.

"I didn't know she was engaged."

Rachel shook her head, her gaze down partially to escape the prying eyes of those still blatantly watching and partially to hide from him. "Their little boy …" Rachel couldn't even say it. If Hunter didn't look exactly like Finn, she'd have to worry about whether Puck was the father, given the boy's age and how quickly Quinn had gotten pregnant once she'd returned from LA, and just the thought made her sick.

"Ray Ray!" Kurt announced merrily, playing up his enthusiasm to mask the melancholy that no doubt everyone had caught on to by now. "Time to cut the cake. It's shaped and colored like a platinum record, though I'm sure your CD will go _triple_ platinum."

Rachel nodded minutely, looking back at Noah for a single second. "I have to go."

"Rachel …"

"Please, Noah."

She didn't turn around, and maybe that was what kept him from pushing more. Her party had already been ruined, and he certainly didn't want to make it worse. After a full minute, he started to follow the path back inside but stopped short when he saw Kurt hadn't yet moved from his spot in front of the door. "The fuck?"

"I think you should go." Kurt's voice quivered, and in the back of his mind Puck likened the tone to how the nerds in high school had sounded whenever they'd tried to stand up for themselves (right before Puck tossed them in the trash can).

"What are you doing?"

Kurt lifted his chin defiantly. "Protecting her," he said pointedly before turning the doorknob and returning to the party. He knew Puck hadn't followed him in, as he watched Rachel's gaze follow his exit outside until he was completely out of sight. Kurt moved into her line of vision and smiled softly, accepting her tiny nod in gratitude before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, whispering, "The show must go on."

Rachel plastered on a happy face and watched as Kurt lit the candles on the cake. Everyone started singing the lyrics to her "Girl on Fire" single, and Rachel laughed and danced a little in celebration as if she weren't dying inside. But when it came time for her to blow out the flames and make a wish, she couldn't help but think back on the night and the past two months.

"I wish this never had to end."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Heart breaking, I know, but it can't all be rainbows and butterflies (Maroon 5 taught us that. Haha). Hopefully this chapter helps clear up most of the confusion that was left after the last chapter, though. And, if not, then the next chapter definitely should. Please keep reading and keep reviewing ... speaking of which, I want to take time to thank the anonymous reviewers. I usually PM everyone individually to thank them for their feedback and talk about things, but I can't do that for you guys (obviously). However, a couple of you are leaving some killer reviews and I really want to thank y'all for that! So, thanks - and keep it coming!

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Gabby came barreling into her office, a large stack of magazines and newspapers in her arms. She threw them down on the coffee table in front of where Rachel was sitting before walking to her computer to immediately check the Twitter feeds and other relevant online chatter. Rachel watched stoically, appreciating her manager's diligence but still too shattered to state her gratitude. Besides, given the conversation they'd had in the car before last night happened, Rachel figured an apology was probably in order before anything else.

"There are just _so_ many pictures," Gabby sighed, clicking and clicking on her computer all while shaking her head and, quite obviously, panicking. "Sales are still up, so that's good, but …"

"I know," Rachel said, forcing her eyes up away from the headlines and articles that seemed to be staring at her. Mocking her in how she could see the image and her body reacted as if his hands were still on her or she could still see the color of his eyes change. "Tell me what I need to do."

Gabby groaned at a particularly sensationalized story, pushing at her computer screen in disgust just so she couldn't even see it in her periphery as she spoke to Rachel. "No one was able to hear whatever it is you two spoke about, so we're going to spin all the pictures as Sam's manager trying to smooth things over between you and Sam. It moves the spotlight onto him, and we'll just let the press decide what he did wrong."

"No." The word was out of Rachel's mouth before she could even censor it. "I'm sorry," she breathed, shaking her head in a hopefully more subtle denial. "I know I'm not exactly in the position to be picky or even unreasonable, but there has to be another way."

"Rachel …" Gabby trailed off, a mix between frustration and outright befuddlement echoing in her tone. "They might not know what you two said, but _these pictures_ speak a thousand words."

"I know," Rachel repeated, ashamed of herself for not having a better handle on the situation last night.

Everything had happened so fast, though. One minute she was in this blissful (albeit secret) bubble with Noah, and then the next Quinn was there and so abrasive and then Finn and Sam joined the group and then Santana and Kurt, and with each new person came this new wave of information that just kept pulling her further and further out to sea. And she'd left the restaurant in an effort to swim out of the tide, knowing she'd needed to escape the crowd, but she wasn't strong enough. The truth had knocked the air from her lungs, and the only thing she could do was drown.

"Sam didn't do anything wrong," she said, trying to give her voice from strength. "I refuse to get ahead in life by stepping on people, especially friends."

"I respect that," Gabby stated very robotically, adding, "but it's not going to be that easy. There's going to be questions and …"

"I know." Rachel nodded her head once, her mind made up. "I'll take full responsibility for my decisions."

An hour later - after talking with Gabby about the best way to elude particular questions and the schedule for the next week - Rachel rode the elevator up to Santana's apartment thinking about what she'd said to Gabby and how it related to what Santana had said last night. In all the fury surrounding the party and her career and _everything_, Rachel never got the chance to talk to her roommate and friend. And, despite all her own troubles, she really wanted to; after all, she wasn't the only one whose night hadn't gone according to plan.

"So?" Santana asked, sitting on the plush chair that more faced the door than anything else, putting down the magazine she'd been flipping through. "Gabs flip her lid?"

"Pretty much." Rachel sighed heavily, exhausted despite the fact that it wasn't even noon; granted, she hadn't slept at all, so that might have something to do with it. "But I don't want to talk about it." She placed her purse on the end table closest to Santana. "I want to talk to you."

"Well it's going to have to wait." Santana nodded her head toward Rachel's bedroom. "You have a visitor."

Rachel immediately tensed, her eyes slowly moving to the closed white door as if she could see through it. Noah had done as she'd asked by not following her last night, but she should have known he wouldn't go down without a fight. He wasn't the type of guy to just give up, especially when his pride was in question. Then again, she thought bitterly, she wasn't sure she had the authority on what kind of guy he actually was.

"Hi."

"Hi," Rachel rushed out, her hand clutching the door handle so tightly that she was worried it might break. She'd been instantly relieved not to see Noah on the other side of her bedroom door - she refused to even acknowledge the twinge of disappointment she felt, though - but a different emotion quickly took over when she saw Quinn instead sitting primly at the corner of her bed. Anger. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check on you." Quinn frowned a little, her head tilting to one side sympathetically. "You look tired."

Rachel shook her head sardonically, biting back the comment about how she looked nothing but completely put together. Flawless makeup; golden, shiny hair without a strand out of place; terrific outfit. She didn't look anything like a woman whose marriage was tearing at the seams and then ripped to shreds last night.

"I know you're hurting, but I promise you are so much better off."

Rachel's eyes narrowed, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "Is that right?"

"Rachel," Quinn began, her tone a bit exasperated. She stood up, her stance defensive in retaliation to the righteous indignation that she could practically feel rolling off the brunette. "You can't possibly be _this_ upset about _Puck_." She scoffed when Rachel didn't even flinch. "He's a loser. A loser and a _creep_ and …"

"Maybe with you." Rachel didn't want her voice to quiver, but she couldn't help it. She'd spent the last 16 hours forcing herself to stop thinking about him, let alone speak about him. "Maybe you didn't give him a chance."

"A chance to what? Give me herpes? Sleep with my friend?"

"This coming from the woman who cheated on her fiance?"

"God, this is just like high school." Quinn shook her head, acid in her tone now. "You put yourself on this damn pedestal, but even worse is that you put people like Puck up on one, too." The blonde pointed accusingly at Rachel. "Look at you. He lied to you for months and humiliated you on the biggest night of your singing career. How, _how_, could you still love him?"

Rachel gasped, shutting her eyes tight to try to block the blinding pain Quinn's words had caused. Even now, in the depths of her sorrow and the wounds fresh and raw, Rachel refused to summarize her and Noah's relationship so menially. They might not have been together for long, but it had felt more real and more serious than any other relationship of hers. And while they damage that had been done was enough to end it, she already knew she wouldn't trade the time they'd spent together beforehand for anything.

"I've often wondered the same about Finn with you."

Quinn stepped forward deliberately. "This has nothing to do with Finn."

"It has _everything_ to do with him!" Rachel practically shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Are you still in love with him?"

Rachel covered her face with her hands, shaking her head in utter exhaustion. She was tired - tired of being in the same love parallelogram that she'd participated in for the last ten years - that she couldn't stand to be in the same room as the blonde for one second more. The fact that she didn't have to was all that more apparent when she turned on her heel and left, locking eyes with Santana. The Latina was standing in the kitchen (pretending to do dishes but more than likely eavesdropping), and even though Rachel wasn't looking at Quinn, she knew the blonde was following her. And, if Santana's expression was any indication, Rachel could imagine the glare the two former teammates shared was not friendly.

Rachel stopped in front of the front door to the apartment, looking again at the blonde. "You're right, Quinn. This is exactly like high school." She poised her hand on the door knob, not yet turning the metal hardware. "You're here pretending to care about me and trying to give me advice as if you have a _damn_ clue what you're talking about. But, you know what? You don't. You don't know a thing about friendship _or_ love, and I'd prefer it if you just left."

Quinn wasted no time stomping out of the apartment, nor did Rachel even think about the blonde's feelings when she let the door slam immediately behind her. The two hadn't been friends since college, and even then it was the same thing as it always had been. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Once Quinn and Finn got back together, the blonde always made sure to keep one eye on Rachel (and probably the other on Santana).

"Not gonna lie, B." Santana grinned, appearing in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer. "That was hot."

"Santana," Rachel groaned, dragging herself through the apartment and sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

The Latina lifted the spoons she'd retrieved, shrugging one shoulder emptily. "I was thinking we could call Q a bitch over a pint of ice cream, but ya kinda ruined that plan by basically calling her one to her face."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it was tame compared to whatever you two spoke about before I arrived."

"We didn't talk." Santana shook her head. "If I didn't all but lock her in your room, shit would have gone down."

Rachel frowned, remembering that she'd wanted to talk to Santana about everything but not sure she had the energy now. And yet, she needed to know. She needed to make sense out of at least _something_ when there were still so many other questions that might never get an answer.

"I still can't believe she didn't tell him," Santana snarled. "Back then, when I saw the back of the head," Santana didn't dare say Puck's name to her still fragile friend, "I was so pissed at her. I _did_ call her a bitch to her face, but she'd _promised _to tell Finn when she moved back." She sighed, thinking she should have known better. Santana was basically the one who'd taught Quinn how to lie. "Up until last night, I thought she had and he'd just taken it well. You know Finn. No spine."

Rachel nodded, though it made her feel bad. "Why did you take the blame for it, then?"

"It made sense … after all the shit I put Finn through in college and whatever … to just take that punch for him."

Rachel nodded sympathetically, thinking back to her meeting with Gabby. She hadn't wanted to feed Sam to the press, but there was definitely part of her that was considering Noah's feelings, too. His career, just like Sam's, would be over if she'd let Gabby spin the rumors against the blond and she couldn't do that. In spite of everything, she still cared about Noah too much to hurt him, especially deliberately. It would almost be sweet if it weren't so depressing; he clearly hadn't cared enough about her to avoid hurting her, so why was she bothering even in the aftermath of everything?

"Kurt already hated me, so it was no skin off my back to add to the pile." Santana tried to appear casual even though they both knew this conversation was anything but.

"Do you still love him?"

"No." She shook her head at Rachel's skeptical gaze, knowing it was because of how quickly she'd answered. "Back then, I was. And I still kinda regret how much I took it all for granted, but … no." She shrugged lightly. "Sam's sorta cute."

"Really?" Rachel blinked in surprise, a genuine smile crossing her face for the first time in the last day. "Do you like him?"

Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You sound like a reporter. Or worse … Quinn."

Rachel laughed pathetically. "She's not wrong." She sighed. "I do still love him."

"You're still in love with Finn?" Santana asked, nearly choking on the words.

"No."

Santana grimaced, looking away from her friend's sad expression and walking over to the fridge. She yanked open the freezer door and pulled out the aforementioned pint, grabbing the two spoons and walking out of the kitchen and around toward Rachel. She extended the silver utensil toward the brunette, smiling sadly at her before popping the lid to the frozen treat. "Ice cream it is."

Rachel laughed in spite of herself, appreciating having a friend during this tough time. Things were only going to get worse between the scrutiny of the press and the issue with Quinn and Finn that she knew wouldn't just go away after today. And there would have been a time when she would've questioned whether Santana was just being nice or if they were really friends, but after everything that had happened (both recently and just since Rachel had moved to LA) she knew better than to doubt the validity of their friendship.

In fact, in light of everything, their friendship might be the only truth left in Rachel's life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Another non-Puckleberry chapter, but it's all part of the process. I hope you still read (and I'd love if you'd also review - good or bad!). Thanks!

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Puck sat slumped in a hard, plastic chair of the crowded indoor stadium, crammed between his mother and grandmother and a few thousand other people. Nana Connie's thick perfume permeated the stale air surrounding them, his mother sucking in heavy gulps of it as she cried her eyes out next to him. His little sister, Sarah, was not so little anymore; she was graduating college magna cum laude, and already lined up a job in Cleveland at some sweet advertising firm. She used to always bug the shit out of him by knowing all the words to every fucking jingle, but apparently it had all been for something.

Which, unfortunately, was something Puck had been thinking a lot about lately. Had it all been for something?

For the past three days, all Puck could think about was what had happened that night. He hadn't seen or heard from anyone since he'd left, though that was mostly on him. He'd left Rachel's party and went straight to the airport, where he'd thrown away his cell phone (yeah; that happened) before boarding mostly because he was a tool. He'd done enough damage without doing something really stupid, like drunk-dialing her.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder how she was doing. He'd obviously seen the headlines and knew he was a shit manager for leaving Sam during the crisis. Luckily Gabby hadn't completely murdered the blond's character, though he suspected that probably had more to do with Rachel than Gabby. Gabby was a shark in a tank of piranhas, and Puck had no doubt that she'd had some master plan to turn Rachel into a victim and leave Sam out to dry. It definitely would have been the easier (and smarter, for her career, anyway) thing to do, but leave it to Berry to still do right by Sam when everything in her life was going wrong.

"Noah, please try to at least smile," his mother pleaded through her tears. "This might not be one of your fancy schmancy Hollywood parties, but it is a very important day for your sister."

"She already walked and whatever." Noah pointed toward the front, where the diplomas were being handed out to students with a last name in the T's.

"Noah," she chastised again.

He rolled his eyes and stood, gesturing toward the nearest exit. "I'mma wait outside."

Both his mother and his grandmother tried to stop him, but Puck just kept walking until he was out of the crowded stadium. The weather was decent, which was usually a blessing for Ohio - even if it was early June. He'd wandered away from the front doors more toward the side, sitting on the curb of the parking lot and fiddling with nearby blades of grass while his mind again reverted back to the night of Rachel's party.

All through their fight, he'd had these flashbacks of moments with Quinn. They were things he hadn't thought about, really, for years, and yet things that he'd obviously held onto. In a way, she was the reason he pushed himself so hard to be a good manager. He needed to prove that he was worthy, even though she wasn't around to see it. And, in the same way, she was the reason he hadn't pursued his own career - because she'd been around to see his failure and cemented it in him that that's what he was, too. She was also the reason he'd never had another real relationship, always the evidence he'd called back on when he needed to remember that it all wasn't worth it.

All of that changed with Rachel.

She'd forced him to see past the one night, past his insecurities and doubts. Outside of that one night where she'd told him he was talented enough to make it and he should try again, Rachel never stated any expectations she had for him other than for him to be himself and allow her to be herself. All the changes he'd made (pursuing music, dating her), she'd never pressured him and she'd done it all without one iota of manipulation. All she did was believe in him, trust him to do the right thing - by him and by them.

And he'd blown it.

"Noah!" His mother shouted, waving a camera high in the air. "Come take a picture with your sister!"

Puck rose from his spot on the ground, wiping his hands off on his thighs and then wiping any dirt from his backside. He'd gotten away without wearing a tie, but he was still in a long-sleeve button down shirt and slacks that he'd bought the day before at the local mall (and by local, he meant 30 minutes away). His few minutes of reprieve had been nice (albeit mentally exhausting), but he'd suddenly felt the heat sticking underneath the heavy fabric.

"Let's get this over with." He slung his arm of Sarah's shoulders, knocking her graduation cap with the index finger of his opposite hand so it sat on her head a little crooked. "Loser."

"Just admit you're jealous that I now have documentation that shows I'm _clearly_ the smartest in the family."

"Right after ya admit you're jealous that I _clearly_ got all the good looks."

Sarah rolled her eyes, turning her face forward to smile at the camera. Puck managed a smirk, too, but mostly because he was reminded that coming home wasn't always the worst thing in life. His mother was insane and he was legit terrified of what she might do once Sarah moved away - empty nest syndrome, and all. However, he was almost bummed that his sister had decided to stay in Ohio (albeit far enough away that she'd have to move). When she was younger, she'd practically begged him to let her visit him in New York, and then last year she'd mentioned looking at advertising firms both there and in California. Apparently she was really happy with her decision, but maybe paying the way for her to visit him for a week or so before the big move wouldn't suck so much.

"I'm schvitzing like pudding at a picnic," his mother stated, trying to fan herself with the small camera still clenched in her hand. "Let's go drop off Nana and then we'll pick up some Chinese from Sarah's favorite place." His ma beamed. "It will be just like when you two were younger!"

Puck placated her with a forced smile and nod, following the group as they walked through the parking lot toward the family car. He sat in the back with his sister, staring out the window while the girls talked about their earlier shopping trip to pick out Sarah's dress (which he thought had been really stupid since the thing had been covered up the whole time). Normally he'd just tune them out, but he'd found that the noise (let's be honest; it was noise) kept his mind from wandering. Unfortunately, just as they entered the city limits of the small cow town he'd called home for eighteen years, fate took the opportunity to step in and show him that things, in general, just couldn't go his way.

"Ma! Turn it up!" Sarah demanded, practically bouncing in the backseat next to Puck. "I _love_ this song!"

He didn't recognize the song immediately, but her voice was unmistakable. It hit his eardrums like a lullaby, but penetrated his bloodstream like a virus. Each passing note brought with it another bout of pain, and his whole body tensed in an effort to dull the ache he felt all over. He couldn't tune her out, though, nor could he ignore the playful humming from his left or the way his little sister was (unknowingly) extending his misery.

"Cut it out!" He snapped, pushing Sarah a little harder than he'd meant.

"Noah!" Sarah whined, rubbing her arm and pouting like she was still eight years old.

"I don't know what has gotten into you, young man!" His mother reprimanded him as if he, too, were still eight years old, staring at him coldly through the rearview mirror. "It's that rotten California sun. Burned your _manners_ away." Then she turned the volume up, adding, "This is your sister's day, Noah. Don't be so selfish."

"Fine," he grumbled, waiting until the car stopped completely at the light before unlocking the door and shoving it open so he could exit. He slammed the door in the middle of the three women's protests, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking aimlessly away from the vehicle. It had been years since he'd been back, but he still remembered his way around. Even as the sun set and the sky got darker and darker, Puck was able to make his way back to his old high school, somehow surprised and not at the same time when he saw a familiar figure waiting for him on the bleachers.

"I told your mom not to worry." Sam grinned, his arms extended wide across the metal row above where he sat. "This is always where we went when either of us just needed to get away."

Puck grumbled something unintelligibly, climbing the three short steps before collapsing onto the bottom row. He'd been walking for a little more than an hour; add that onto the trip to and from his sister's school plus the mind-numbing length of the graduation ceremony, and it was pretty obvious why he was exhausted. "Guess ya know me so well."

"I thought I did." Sam's good mood faded, his posture straightening in some subtle attempt to get closer to Puck. "We've been best friends since high school." His eyes managed to frown, too, as he added, "This is the _exact_ spot where I told you all about how I was stripping so my family could pay our mortgage and where you'd promised to keep my secret from the entire school." Sam sighed, shaking his head a little. "I guess I just didn't think _**we**_ had any secrets."

Puck scoffed, mostly at himself. He'd honestly thought he couldn't have feel any worse, but Sam had managed to add to the pile of crap that was weighing him down. Their friendship meant a lot to him, now and back then. When Sam's family had moved into town, everyone else had already written Puck off. His dad had split right before he'd started the fourth grade, and he'd spent his entire middle-school years earning the reputation as the town fuck up. Then Sam transferred to his high school a few weeks after freshmen year, and Puck couldn't crack him.

He was the new kid on the football team, so naturally there had been some hazing. Puck had thrown him in the garbage container once and put superglue on the dial of his gym locker, but the blond never retaliated - he'd even laughed so hard he'd almost peed himself as the nurse and principal gathered around him to try to decide how they were going to get him free from his locker without making a scene. Puck's irritation with Sam's laid-back attitude turned into some kind of mission impossible, where he'd ended up following the blond home one night after practice. Only, Sam hadn't gone home. He'd gone to a strip club, which at first Puck thought was awesome. But then he'd confronted him about it the next day after practice and Sam had told him the whole story.

It was that moment where Puck realized that he had a chance to be someone different than everyone else assumed he was. He couldn't change their minds, but maybe he could change his own about himself. After all, Sam didn't seem to care what everyone said about him, and maybe it was that kind of confidence/trust that solidified Puck's decision. He'd kept Sam's secret from leaking into the gossip mill, and he'd even helped babysit the blond's little brother and sister sometimes to lend an extra hand. Sure, he'd still slept around and made nerds do his homework and whatever, but he was at least a good friend to Sam.

"I've known you since we were teenagers, and now …" Sam trailed off, shaking his head a little in disbelief. "I don't know. I feel like maybe I don't know you at all."

Puck chuckled self-deprecatingly, breathing out, "Me neither."

Never more than recently, Puck felt like he was fighting with himself. Good versus evil, almost, as he'd considered right versus wrong and lies versus truth. Even that night on the way to the airport, part of him was thinking everything was some kind of blessing in disguise. Like he was finally free of the burden that came with being Rachel's boyfriend. He'd internally argued all the merits that came with the truth, from saving her career and his manhood to putting to rest any lingering regret he might have had regarding Quinn and even becoming Sam's manager. Then, a second later, the con list would pile up in his head and he'd basically slip into either an internal rage or a deep-seeded depression.

"Two months ago, everything was great. Good job, hot chicks … all of it." It didn't seem long enough to have such a faded recollection of that time in his life, and yet … "Now, fuck." Puck sighed heavily, his head sagging a little. "I _miss_ her."

He winced at the words, but not for the reasons he would have before. Instead, now, they didn't seem strong enough. In such a short amount of time, being with Rachel had changed him, and just the thought that she was gone made him realize how long he'd needed to change. His goal ever since he was younger was to be someone different, someone who could do whatever he wanted despite all the negative things others thought of him. Rachel had seen him as that man, and now he didn't know if he was still that person without her.

"I love her," he admitted in surprise. Puck wasn't stupid; before everything had blown up (and maybe right from the beginning), he'd known that things were different with Rachel and that it had to mean something. He'd let his guard down and opened up to her more than he'd done for any other person, so he wasn't dumb enough to think that he only had feelings for her on a physical level. But love seemed so definitive, maybe even more so in the aftermath of everything.

"Ut oh." Sam joked, laughing when Puck looked up at him with daggers in his eyes. "What?" The blond laughed harder. "I might not know everything about you - clearly - but that? Not a secret, dude."

Puck groaned, dropping his face into his hands and running them over his scalp in frustration. Sam frowned at the action, realizing this might be the perfect opportunity to be there for his friend just the way he'd been there for him all those years ago. Maybe they had lost track of their connection though all the chaos of life and work, but the beginning seemed like the best place to start over, right?

"But," Sam began, shrugging a little to appear casual and/or nonthreatening. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Puck lifted his head up, his eyes narrowing on the blond. Sam's expression was nothing but sincere, and Puck couldn't help but realize their roles had reversed from that initial moment of friendship. Sam had always been his best friend because he'd trusted Puck. And Puck trusted Sam, too, but he'd never relied on him the way Sam had done with Puck. In fact, this was probably the first real/equal conversation they've had since … ever.

"How much time ya got?"

Sam grinned, accepting what he knew was Puck's acceptance to talk. "Awhile." Then he added, "I'm waiting for my manager to call me back."

"Yeah." Puck chuckled, nodding his head and turning a little on the bleacher so he was facing Sam more. "You've got awhile."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** I knew going into this one that it would be tough to write, but my gracious. I want to thank everyone who is still reading for all the support. You guys are really awesome ... and I'm getting kind of sad thinking that there are only a few chapters left after this. Stupid multichapter fics. This always happens! Haha.

Enjoy!

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Rachel smiled brightly at the little girl, trying to listen to her story about how she wanted to grow up to also be a singer while also signing the child's newly purchased CD. There weren't many appearances like this anymore courtesy of digital media, so Rachel really tried her best to make the moments memorable for her fans. She posed for pictures and gave personalized autographs. She talked to families about the importance of arts programs in schools and offered sincere (albeit somewhat cliche) advice on following one's dreams, however big they might seem. She really gave it her all, which was a lot harder now that she felt like there was only half of herself left to give.

"OK!" Gabby stated overenthusiastically. "Rachel is going to take a _quick_ break and then be _right_ back to sign more memorabilia and take pictures with _all_ her _great_ fans."

Rachel looked up from the Broadway poster she was signing, her eyebrows knitting in confusion until she saw what had Gabriel in such a panic. Despite the blonde manager pushing him further and further away - all while still smiling and trying her best to appear casual to any passersby - Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that he was right there, next to her. She could smell that intoxicating mix of sea salt and masculinity. Her body warmed at the recollection of his gentle yet possessive touch. The deep hue of his eyes shone in her own vision.

"Hand cramp," she joked lightly, pushing her chair back and doing her best not to sprint toward the room she'd seen Gabby pushing Noah. The record store had given them free reign of one of offices in the back, and as Rachel got closer and heard the commotion coming from it, she knew that's where they'd disappeared to.

"I don't care!" Gabby shouted. Normally she was relatively calm (especially for her career), but everything was still too fresh. He'd jeopardized so much already and to come here today was blatantly disrespectful. Plus, Puck was a manager, too, so he should know better. "I picked up your mess once already and we won't be able to skate by so easily this time."

"I'm not gonna make a scene, I just …"

"Can't you think of anyone besides yourself? Just this once?" The blonde sighed in exasperation. Technically she was thinking of _herself_, too; or, rather, the money that could be lost if this spiraled out of control more than it already had. "This is her career, her _livelihood_. If someone noticed you …"

"Gabby." Rachel's quiet voice broke through the moment, the two occupants of the room whipping to face the door, each with very different expressions. She didn't dare focus on Noah's, instead trying to stifle the rage in the woman's. "Just … give us a minute."

"Rachel," she warned gently while somehow also managing to throw an icy glare at the man to her right.

"I promise." Rachel nodded once, then again when her manager relented, begrudgingly. It wasn't until Gabby walked out and the door completely closed that Rachel lifted her gaze up, not enough that her chin was raised but enough that she could see him through her eyelashes. "Hi."

"Hi," Puck repeated, wondering how his throat could suddenly feel so dry. He was just talking fine - even on the verge of yelling - and then Rachel walked into the room and he couldn't help the way he'd reacted. Outside of newspaper and magazine pictures, he hadn't seen her in a week. And, as was always an issue when she was around, seeing her quickly became not enough. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted … her.

"H-how was Ohio?" She asked nervously, smiling a little at the question she saw float past his eyes. "Sam."

Puck bobbed his head in understanding of her simple explanation. "Good." He shrugged. "Ma made me feel seven years old again, but my little sister managed to make me feel _really_ old." He exhaled deeply, soaking in some confidence at her light laughter. "She loves you."

"I can sign a CD for her," she offered, bashfully adding, "if you want."

"Sure." He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

The tension in the room would have been obvious to anyone. Puck's hands were buried deep in his pockets, his head tilted down and his eyes focused on the area where he was scuffing the tile floor with his shoe. Rachel, similarly, kept darting her eyes between his face and the cheap decorations in the room. Her hands wringed nervously in front of her, and her bottom lip was secured tightly between her teeth. After about the hundredth stolen glance, though, Puck couldn't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he sighed, his head snapping up and his eyes honing on her face before he breathed, "I miss you."

Rachel gasped lightly, but her expression didn't show the shock she'd felt. Instead, she slowly moved her gaze to him, smiling almost sympathetically. "I miss you, too."

Puck tried to gauge her expression, tried to decipher her tone. She'd told him before that he was hard to read, but that she'd started to learn some of his tells. Allegedly, his eyes tended to give him away even when his face was _masked in practiced ambivalence_ (legit, her words). And he'd thought he knew her pretty well, but … either he hadn't paid enough attention before, or she'd never bothered hiding her own clues from him until now.

"I'm sorry. About all of it." He reached across his chest to scratch a supposed itch on his opposite shoulder, inwardly stalling giving the speech he'd thought about during all those recent sleepless nights. "Seeing Q again and then going home for a bit … I dunno. It made me think about everything that I'd swore hadn't ever mattered to me, but clearly, like, affected my decisions."

Puck paused for a brief moment when the echoes of all his demons couldn't be quieted. His father walking out, being in juvie, his mom telling him in high school that she'd wished he was more like Sam, sleeping around … it was like a cacophony of what should have been a mental breakdown years ago. "I've been a loser my whole life, but … not with you."

Rachel blinked at the sincerity in his voice, but more so at the serious expression on his face. He wasn't shying away from the emotional conversation, nor was he doing those typical things he did to try to ease the tension. He was clearly uncomfortable and a big part of her yearned to ease his mind. She wanted to take the few steps it would take to close the distance between them and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to run the backside of her hand across the stubble of his cheek and tell him everything was fine.

But it wasn't. She couldn't.

"I can't be your prize, Noah." She released her lip to frown, realizing that might have sounded worse than she'd intended. "I've done it before and that's not the relationship I want."

Her mind flashed back to high school when she'd worn a ring that meant so much more than she'd ever realized. Finn's words to her in the auditorium that day were so beautiful and so heartfelt, and it was every girl's dream to be someone's everything, but now she knew better. "I'm just as human as you are, Noah, with my own flaws and insecurities." Her inhale was shaky. "I can't be with someone who puts me on such a high pedestal that he can't see those things."

Puck furrowed his brow, thinking for a split second before uttering, "I mean, ya talk way too damn much and whatever. And your friends are kinda shit and you still care more about them - more about everybody - than yourself and it is kinda annoying." He winced a little before shrugging. "I just mean, I see 'em."

"Noah," she began gently, giving him the benefit of the doubt even though he'd basically just insulted her during his grand gesture. "I think it is very brave that you came here and opened up, but … I just … _can't_." There was so much pain in the word that it forced both of them to look away from the other. "It's not really even about you, now. This sounds terribly cliche, but it's me." She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "It's about trusting myself and my decisions and … I just can't do that with you. Not after … everything."

Both of them couldn't help but think back to that night. Puck had tried to explain what had happened with Quinn. How it was a part of his past and that he hadn't known about Finn until that last night before Q left California and his life for good. Part of him felt like telling Rachel again, making sure she understood at least that much, but he knew it wouldn't matter. She'd had just as long to think about everything that had happened as he'd had this week, and she'd clearly rebuilt that wall that he'd only recently realized he'd been able to push past.

The week apart had been the hardest in Rachel's entire life, which was proof just how much impact Noah had. And it wasn't that she was scared of that kind of power - in the future, she knew their relationship would be the one she'd use for comparison; it used to be Finn, but with Noah she'd been able to see just what she'd always felt had been missing in her love life. And it wasn't just because she'd been younger, but rather because she'd pinpointed the difference: Passion.

She was scared of what that kind of devotion meant for everything else in her life, which (maybe unfortunately) was what she had to focus on now. "Yet another cliche, but I'd love it if we could remain friends."

It was worse than taking a bullet, but Puck managed to at least nod (smiling was out of the question). "Yeah." He shrugged emptily. "Hard not to since your roommate is dating my best friend."

"Your ex-girlfriend. Right?"

She managed a wink that made his heart race even though it felt like another fatal wound.

"I'm glad Santana is giving him a real chance," she said. "They're really cute together."

"Yeah," he repeated, feeling like an idiot. There's nothing more he wanted than to just walk out of the room and never look back. Except there was. Her. "Sam's always been into prissy chicks, so s'cool."

"Yes, they seem to balance each other out nicely."

Rachel bowed her head to mask the slow fade of her smile. There had been a time when she'd thought the same thing about her and Noah. In fact, even Santana had mentioned it. Noah had this ability to squelch some of Rachel's craziness; he put her at ease, allowing her to be comfortable with herself (in her own skin). Similarly, Rachel had noticed her own effect on Noah, adding some structure to his somewhat unhinged lifestyle. For whatever reason, he seemed more grounded in her presence, which really shouldn't make sense since so often she'd been accused of living in the clouds.

"I better get back," she stated sadly, shaking those final thoughts out of her head so she could prepare to put her happy face back on.

"Right," Puck agreed, absently surprised that Gabby hadn't stormed back in and interrupted them by now.

"I … It was good to see you, Noah."

Puck's eyes raked over her body one last time, committing each detail to memory before he simply said, "You, too."

"Bye," she closed sadly, her eyes lingering on him until the last possible second as she turned toward the exit. The past few minutes were the first in a whole week where her heart felt whole, and each step she took away from him was like another crack or chip in the vital organ. Slowly, she opened the door and started to walk through, looking back over her shoulder in what she hoped appeared more casual than it felt. "Wait here and I'll make sure Gabby gives you that record for your sister."

Puck nodded in agreement, though she'd already continued her retreat. They both knew he couldn't go out there and pretend to be any other guy. The event was almost over, but there were still a few press members seeking some alone time with the upcoming starlet. The media attention had died down significantly in the past week, the reporters moving on to the next scandal, but Gabby was right. Just the fact that they were in the same area could wreak havoc if anyone realized.

"Are you OK? The line is growing!"

Gabby practically tackled Rachel as soon as she exited the short hallway separating the offices from the selling floor. The brunette gave her manager a reassuring nod, walking back to the table with a fake smile secured on her face. She returned to her seat in the middle of the long table, quickly grabbing a CD from the top of one of the stacks. She used the gold marker to write a short note to Puck's little sister, signing her name between two gold stars before handing it to Gabby.

"Please give this to Noah." Rachel frowned at the instant look of detest she saw cross Gabby's features. "It's for his sister."

The blonde relented on a sigh, leaving Rachel to focus on those still waiting in line.

"And what's your name, sweetie?" Rachel asked the young girl in front of her who was so small she could barely see above the short table.

"Nicole," the little girl replied shyly in a voice no stronger than a mouse.

"That's a pretty name." Rachel began writing her message on the extra-small T-shirt the girl had brought. The words _find your voice _seemed appropriate. "Pretty name for a _very_ pretty girl."

Rachel smiled at the sheepish giggle, but her attention moved suddenly to the left. She could feel the worry radiating off her manager even in the distance, her eyes turning to see the blonde hastily making her way back to the table. With the CD Rachel had given her still in her hand. Once she was within reaching distance, Gabby placed the CD in her purse and calmly (though with an obvious edge in her movements) leaned over so her mouth was right next to Rachel's ear.

"He wasn't there."

Rachel felt her heart drop, but made sure to keep her expression completely professional. She was growing tired of having to hide so much of herself from the public, but she knew that was the only way to preserve any of her personal life. Although, everything considered, there was a good chance she wasn't going to have much a personal life anymore. Obviously she still had Santana and Kurt and the rest of her friends, but apparently Noah wasn't going to be on that list.

And even though she knew she didn't want to be his everything, she'd hoped they'd still be _something_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note #1:** So the story is winding down and I'm finding myself having trouble writing for it mostly because I'm sad to see it end. But, oh well. Here is the next chapter and I'd really like to know what you guys think. It's another one without any Puckleberry interaction, but I promise this is all building up to something! As always, thanks so much for all your feedback/support/general awesomeness!

* * *

Puck accepted the business card with a charming smile, tucking it in his back pocket as he watched the woman saunter back to wherever she'd been going before stopping to talk to (hit on) him. She was nice enough and obviously attractive - her shirt was practically open in the back and the front had dipped down pretty far, too, so there wasn't much left to the imagination - but he wasn't interested. He was, however, sick of people giving him crap for allegedly moping around and he also didn't want to act like a dick by refusing to take her number. Although now he'd be a dick for never calling the chick.

"He's on in 5, Puck."

Puck nodded at the stagehand, grabbing his coffee cup from below the canister and taking a tentative sip. They'd flown in to New York from LA late this morning and had been working nonstop. The taping for the talk show was luckily hours before it would air, but Puck was exhausted - even with gaining three hours courtesy of the time difference. He added about a cup of sugar to the mug and then walked over to the television that would roll playback of Sam's interview. They'd done this show a few times (not in a while, but still) and knew the host pretty well, but Puck knew better than to think the guy would only ask questions related to the album.

It had been six months since everything had happened with Rachel, and the press had long moved on - even if Puck, admittedly, hadn't. Ever since she'd started writing that duet with Sam, the blonde's writer's block had started to slowly lift away. After a lot of time and effort, he'd managed to finish his sophomore album, and it was set to drop in the beginning of the year after the holidays. Tonight's interview and a few more appearances in town and back in LA were part of a promotional tour to get people excited enough about it that they'd use their newly acquired gift cards to buy the album.

"Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Sam Evans."

Puck turned to the screen as he watched his friend come out from behind the curtains, smiling and waving to the audience before shaking hands with the host. The two joked quietly about something before Sam took a seat on the couch opposite the host's desk. The two went back and forth about Sam's appearance - the blonde conveniently left out the fact that he'd agonized for nearly an hour over what to wear, even pulling Puck into his dilemma as if the latter could give two shits - and the women in the crowd cheered emphatically. It all seemed innocent enough, but Puck knew what was coming before the host even opened his mouth.

"Hear that? They love you." The host chuckled. "You are single, right?"

Sam grinned wholeheartedly. "I thought you were married, Ryan."

Puck actually laughed at his friend's joke, but his amusement faded when the host managed to bring the questions back to Sam's relationship status. Luckily there was no need to outright panic. Sam might not be great when it comes to talking to women, but he'd always been great at interviews.

"You're still fairly young, though. Marriage is probably not on your radar yet. And why would it be, right? You've been linked to some pretty incredible women, including Broadway-turned-Pop Princess Rachel Berry. Well, actually, I heard you guys were faking a relationship. Is that true?"

"Absolutely not," Sam stated with a shake of his head, as if he hadn't heard it a million times before. "The truth is, the media really just blew our relationship out of proportion from the beginning." He shrugged casually. "She was starting out in the business and we struck a friendship. Nothing happened romantically, but we're still really good friends." Sam smiled as the audience swooned. "In fact, I have a duet with her on the new album."

"Ah, yes. The album!" The host fumbled in the drawers of the desk until he found the jewel case of Sam's followup to his debut. "Long awaited, too."

"Yeah." Sam took a deep breath, ready to eloquently defend himself while leaving out the fact that he'd had writer's block for more than a year. "The lyrics have always been really important to me, so this one took awhile; the first album was filled with songs I'd been working on since high school whereas this one is a little more mature and a ton more collaborative. On top of the duet with Rachel, I did some work with Blaine and the Warblers for a couple songs."

"Easy, ladies." The host chuckled when the female members of the audience roared in appreciation. "You're going to be performing with them here on New Year's Eve, right?"

"Definitely. Should be fun. Times Square!" The crowd cheered again, and Sam couldn't help but laugh. "I also did a bunch of writing with my manager."

"Is he the one listed as the co-writer on the single?" The host asked, looking now at the booklet inside the CD case.

"Yeah, the single and like four or five others." Sam chuckled. "We've been friends since we were kids and he has this insane background in music, so it was amazing to share this experience, too."

"Well let's take a quick break and when we get back you can premiere this single. Then we'll talk some more."

Puck moved away from the television screen and closer to the side of the stage where he'd still be hidden but able to see Sam while he performed. It wasn't like Puck hadn't heard the song before, but this would be the first time Sam had performed it live. Sometimes the music sounded differently in the studio, and Puck wanted to watch the audience's reaction. Plus, legit, some of the lyrics were his and he was kind of pumped to hear it go national.

"OK, we're back and this is Sam Evans premiering the first single of his new album, _Ut Oh_!"

_I've never been good with words_

_Well, at least not the sweet kind_

_Somehow when she's around, it's like I just lose my mind_

_And I know, I know I should just leave it alone_

_But I won't, I won't_

_*s*_

_I keep getting in my way_

_And my friends say I'm crazy_

_A girl like that would never go for a guy like me_

_And I know, I know that I should listen to them_

_But I won't, I won't, I won't_

_*s*_

_And uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

_*s*  
_

_All I can say is uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

The song might have been collaborative, but a good portion of those first two verses were Puck's. In fact, the chorus had come up during his and Sam's talk six months ago on those bleachers of their hometown. It simultaneously felt like a million years ago since they'd been working so hard on the album but also like just yesterday since so many of the words rang so true to Puck. Even now, with six months of absolutely no contact and trying his damnedest (but failing miserably considering the lyrics of this song the five others Puck had helped with that very clearly were inspired by her) to not think about her.

It was nearly impossible, though. She'd started a small national tour shortly after their last meeting at the record shop, and the coverage of her music was on basically every news medium. He couldn't get on the Internet without seeing her face or name, and he couldn't even find it within himself to be mad about that. She'd always be the most beautiful women he'd ever seen/met/been with, and his only regret was that he'd become one of those douchebags who'd made her doubt that.

_It's like I'm not even here_

_Ran me over as she walked by_

_Dust off my clumsy words and bad pickup line_

_And I know, I know that I can't leave her alone_

_And I won't, I won't_

_*s*  
_

_I try to work up the nerve_

_Hope to God I don't stutter_

_My thrown together letters never end up as words_

_And I know, I know, I should leave it alone_

_But I won't, I won't, I won't_

_*s*  
_

_And uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

_*s*_

_All I can say is uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

It especially wouldn't be fair to ignore her impact on his life since she was the whole reason Puck got back into music. Despite everything that happened between them, he'd continued to talk to his connections about his career and had even been offered a chance to work on his own solo album. But after that long talk with Sam and how much stronger it made their friendship, Puck realized he was happy in the role he'd taken. Before, he'd actually resented Sam for the fact that his fame had sprung up so easily despite the years that Puck had tried to make it. Now, though, he preferred his role in the background. He liked being someone who others relied on, and was even proud of himself for caring enough about those people to not want to let them down.

_Now I know that she's so out of my league_

_But I just can't stop, I keep thinking_

_Just wait and see, she's gonna notice me_

_Yeah, I know that she's so out of my league_

_But I just can't stop, I keep thinking_

_Just wait and see, she's gonna notice me_

_*s*_

_And uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

_*s*_

_All I can say is uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

_*s*_

_All I can say is uh oh, uh oh_

_I get that feeling and I_

_Don't know, don't know_

_How she keeps stealing all the air from my lungs_

_And leaving all the words stuck on my tongue_

_*s*_

_I've never been good with words_

_Well, at least not the sweet kind_

The piercing sound that rose from the audience the second Sam finished the song was startling. A small portion of that enthusiasm was aimed toward lyrics that Puck had wrote, and he felt an odd sense of accomplishment even though it had been Sam's voice and not his own to sing the words. Even the host seemed impressed, though when Sam sat back down on the couch he'd saved himself by saying that it sounded a lot different than his first album (which Puck guessed the host had never listened to before; and if he'd had, then it was earlier that same night or briefly way back during one of the first interviews).

"And does it have anything to do with the rumored relationship with supermodel Santana Lopez?" The host asked cheekily.

Sam laughed, shaking his head a little - he'd seen the question coming a mile away. Still, even though they were at the point in their relationship where they'd stopped denying that they were dating, he and Santana (mostly her, let's be honest) did their best to keep it out of the press. They'd seen firsthand just what that kind of attention could do to a relationship, and it made them (again, mostly her, which was actually surprising) work that much harder to protect their private life. Coyly, he answered, "It was a collaborative effort, remember?"

"Of course!" The host chuckled, sitting back casually, as if he hadn't just been dodged yet again. "Is your manager here tonight? He's got to be here, right?" He looked down at the CD booklet again. "Noah Puckerman, come on out here!"

The audience cheered for more than likely no other reason than the host had been so enthusiastic. It would have been exciting to Puck, too, if he weren't momentarily catatonic. He'd never been nervous about interviews or reporters before, but he'd learned once already this year that anything he said/did wasn't just reflective of himself but, in this case, Sam as well. Feeling the gentle nudge of a different person than the one who'd came out of nowhere and started applying some makeup to his face, Puck looked down at his T-shirt and jeans. He quickly grabbed his leather coat to try to appear a little more put together before sighing and making his way onto the stage.

"Wow." The host blinked a few times, then laughed nervously. "He says, hoping his wife isn't watching and wondering if she was actually just a beard." He shook his head, presenting his wedding band like it was his saving grace and participating in a little back and forth with his sidekick. "So, Noah …"

"S'Puck."

"Puck," the host corrected, waggling his eyebrows when the women in the audience howled in appreciation. It might be a simple outfit, but Puck was apparently pulling off bad boy quite well. "You guys are clearly good friends. Do me a favor and rat him out a little. What's the scoop on him and Santana?"

"Well," Puck began, feeling a little more at ease the longer he sat there. "I don't know if you were listening to the lyrics of his single, but she's pretty much the epitome of out of his league."

"Thanks, dude," Sam joked, taking the insult in stride considering Puck was steering the conversation clear of the dangerous territory.

"So the lyrics are based on fact?" The host questioned, intrigued as he grabbed for a paper that had recently been placed on the top of his desk. "My assistant found this article about Sam's relationship with Rachel Berry that said it didn't work out because _you_ were actually reportedly linked to her."

"What didn't work out? The duet is amazing," Puck evaded as smoothly as he could.

"So you two weren't ever anything?"

The choice of words hit Puck harder than he'd anticipated. He easily could have denied that they'd dated. He would have even been willing to trim their relationship down to two people who became friends due to their mutual acquaintance in Sam. But to admit they hadn't been _anything_ would physically hurt Puck. He'd just barely had the strength to walk away from her invitation of friendship six months ago (it had been for both of them, though he figured she'd seen it differently) and that obviously meant they weren't anything _now_. But … then?

She'd been everything.

"You didn't listen to the song at all, did you?" Sam joked with the host, desperately trying to give Puck a chance to pull himself together. To an outsider, it probably wasn't obvious how much pain Puck was in. But as soon as the host had asked the question, Sam had seen the look in Puck's eyes. The guy looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach, and he hated that they were taping on television in front of a live audience.

"What do you mean?"

Puck cleared his throat and took a deep breath, grateful to Sam for buying him time. He was still nervous the words would come out too sad, but he shrugged emptily and kept his gaze down while trying not to mumble, "A girl like that would never go for a guy like me."

* * *

**Author's Note #2:** So the song used is what started it all (and is where the title came from). It is "Ut Oh" by Junior Doctor, which is actually a pseudo-punk band even though when I'd first heard this song I swore it was going to be some up-and-coming boy band. Oh well. Point is, I sort of love it, but I don't own it. So don't sue.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Not much to say other than the standard THANK YOU and the only-recent weird mix of sadness and excitement that the story is wrapping up. Oh yeah. PLEASE REVIEW! :D

* * *

Rachel stood inside Kurt and Blaine's penthouse condo, trying to catch some of the warm air exiting a nearby vent while still practically pressed against the full-length window and enjoying the view. She was nearly frostbitten from her outside concert that had just ended, but she missed the city at night too much to squander an opportunity to watch the hustle and bustle from her current vantage point. She loved seeing people navigate through the downtown area, watching the snow dance around everything as if to music. Moving to LA had been the hardest decision of her life, and even though she enjoyed the beautiful weather and knew it had been the right choice for her career, Rachel never regretted any time she had to spend in New York. She'd come straight from Ohio, after spending some time with her fathers for Hanukkah, but was staying until the beginning of the New Year. It wasn't going to be all fun - some of the time would be spent making special appearances and performing small concerts (the rest inside, thankfully) – but it was a perfect escape for as long as it lasted.

"Double hot chocolate, soy milk and no marshmallows – even though I maintain it's not hot chocolate without them."

"Thank you." Rachel rolled her eyes, accepting the mug with both hands and sighing at the warmth she felt instantly enter her bloodstream. She followed Kurt to the couch, tucking her feet underneath herself in an effort to warm them faster. "It's quite delicious."

"I use real chocolate," Kurt remarked, taking his own satisfying sip. "Blaine's working out _again _and I'm sitting on my fat ass drinking in calories."

"You're exercising your mouth," Rachel joked lightly, her smile forced when she heard the host on the television announce the next guest. New York was supposed to be her escape, but she wouldn't be able to avoid her thoughts for much longer with Sam on the small screen.

"Did you know he was in town?" Kurt asked quietly, still not sure how to broach the subject even after six months.

"No," she answered softly. "I knew he was starting a promotional tour, but that is only because Santana mentioned it in passing before flying off to Bali."

"Should I change it?"

Rachel shook her head, not because she didn't want to appear weak, but rather because she was curious about the blond. They texted every now and again, but their friendship had definitely fallen by the wayside once they'd finished recording the duet they'd worked on together. After everything that had happened, she knew Sam was in a difficult position, and she didn't want to make it any harder on him. While she enjoyed his company and wanted nothing but good things for him, Rachel knew their friendship was nothing compared to his and Noah's. And if she didn't, then Sam just made it clear by telling the talk show host and anyone watching just how vital Noah was in his life.

"I still think he's gay," Kurt mentioned, mostly to distract his friend from the melancholy he saw creeping into her posture. He hadn't been able to be there for her as much as he'd hoped since she'd been so busy with her album and touring, but he knew her well enough to infer the things he didn't know. It had been six months since Rachel had spoken to Puck, and clearly she wasn't over it. She put on a nice front for all the magazines and appearances and whatever, but it wasn't even close to the Rachel he knew. The last time he saw _that _girl was … _that_ night.

He sighed heavily, hinging forward to place his mug on a coaster on the coffee table before his eyes drifted to the crestfallen expression of his best friend. "I know I asked already and you said things were better this way, but … are you _sure_?"

Rachel hid her frown behind her own mug, taking a sip of the chocolaty drink to give her a few moments to formulate a proper response. Pouting certainly would be called for, but probably not appropriate. Unfortunately, it didn't seem sufficient to give the right answer, which was that she had absolutely no idea; she'd never been in this situation before, so she had no basis for how things were supposed to be/feel. She'd been heartbroken before, sure, but this … after her and Finn had parted ways for good, Rachel had been sad, obviously, but her focus had moved to herself. It made her feel empowered, stronger than ever. And she'd tried to do that again, to focus on her career and forget everything else, but she couldn't. Not this time.

"Rach?"

"No, OK?" Rachel snapped, uncrossing her legs to lay her feet flat on the floor as she turned to place her cup down on the coffee table. "I'm not sure, and you asking a million times isn't particularly helping." She blew out a frustrated breath, slowing turning her face back to his. She let her eyes apologize for her, but wasn't quite done venting. "I appreciate your concern, Kurt, but considering you were against it all from the beginning, I'm not entirely sure I'd tell you otherwise."

He winced at the admission, hating the idea that she would hide her true feelings from him. However, he wanted to point out that he _had _ been right. She'd obviously moved way too quickly with her relationship with Puck, otherwise things like his prior relationship with Quinn would have become known much sooner. Then again, maybe that wasn't the point. "A girl has the right to change her mind."

"You're not a girl, Kurt." Rachel shook her head, grabbing the mug again and lounging back into the sofa with a exasperated sigh. "You're gay."

"Semantics." He winked over his mug and smiled into his next sip when Rachel managed to laugh at his joke. They'd come a long way over the years and learning to have these types of conversations without swearing to not talk to the other for the rest of eternity had been a long-taught lesson. "My concern doesn't have anything to do with whether I was right or not. I think it is irrelevant when it seems like Blaine might have also been right." He shrugged softly, hoping not to hurt her too much with what he intended to say. "You _were_ happier than you'd been in a long time."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat as a million memories coursed through her mind. Some were from high school, others in college, but the bulk were from two months of the current year. They were thoughts of spring and love being in the air, flashes of whispered dreams and shouted pleasure. Every seemingly insignificant (at the time) detail clouded her mind, leaving Rachel in too much of a fog to respond to Kurt's observation.

"I mean, I love my brother, but we both know you too just don't _work_ in a relationship together. He's too preoccupied thinking you're perfect, and you're too busy trying to impress him." Kurt sighed a little, shaking his head. "I guess the same thing could be said for your relationship with Jesse, though I think the second time around was more out of desperation than anything else."

"It was more than that," Rachel defended weakly. "We weren't in high school anymore. He knew the business." She shrugged weakly. "He'd helped me get into NYADA."

"So you owed him?" Kurt's eyes widened, but he sighed in relief at Rachel's reaction. That clearly hadn't been what she'd meant. Thank. God. "It's just … I don't know. Maybe it was because I was witness to Finn and Jesse and," Kurt swallowed thickly, muttering out, "Brody," before continuing, "more than I was Puck. But, even in the short time and through all the weird obstacles you'd put in front of you ... you'd seemed really balanced." He shrugged in an attempt to make it seem casual even though he knew everything he was saying was probably like little knives poking her in the heart. "The best version of you."

Rachel hiccupped out a strange mix of a laugh and sob, the room eerily quiet except for the sound coming from the television. The show had just returned, and Sam was on stage preparing to premiere his brand new single. She'd heard in passing that Noah had helped write some of the lyrics, and even though she knew the creative process can be tricky when collaborating, she found herself listening harder to pinpoint which lyrics might be his versus Sam's. The sound was obviously the blond's choosing, but the stubbornness of the lyrics were soaked in Noah. And while there were some lyrics that Rachel suspected were his (_Somehow when she's around it's like I lose my mind; I keep getting in my way, and my friends say I'm crazy) _and some that she hoped were his (_I know, I know, I can't leave her alone_), there was one that she knew was him.

_I've never been good with words_

_Well, at least not the sweet kind_

The lyrics couldn't have been anymore true for Noah. He was the epitome of the strong, silent type; even when he was being sweet, it was usually more with actions than words – and if it were words, then there was still an obscenity or two to disguise it. Rachel had been privileged to see his vulnerable side a few more times than she imagined most others had, but more than how the lyrics applied to Noah, she wondered how they fit her. Everyone knew she talked too much, but was she good with words?

She'd never felt like anyone really understood her, and maybe that was because she didn't really say what she meant. In high school she chose to express herself through song more than anything, hiding behind the thoughts and emotions of others. And even though Rachel felt like she'd opened up to Noah just as much as he had to her, she knew she'd closed herself off to him much faster, too. After everything that happened, she'd refused to listen to anything he or anyone else said, pushing him away because she didn't know how to express her feelings – that by blurring the image she had of him in her mind, she couldn't see herself next to him anymore.

"Even if I did still …" Rachel cleared her throat, not willing to say _that_ word out loud, "… it's too late. We haven't talked in months and …"

"It's never too late!" Kurt shouted, springing up from the couch with such force that he knocked the coffee table and his mug wobbled enough that Rachel leapt forward to keep it from tipping over. "The show is live! You know the studio! We could get there …"

"Ut oh," Blaine laughed from the doorway, sweat circles evident under his arms and cascading down his torso but his amusement hiding his exhaustion. "He's in full-on matchmaker mode now." He shook his head at Kurt's complete disregard to his appearance in the loft, the latter's focus entirely on Rachel. "I could hear you from the hallway. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Rachel answered immediately, refusing to let Kurt pry her off the couch despite him currently yanking her arm.

"Not _nothing. _If we left now, we could …"

"Nothing," Rachel repeated, finally standing just so he didn't pull her arm out of the socket. "Even if this wasn't the most ridiculous plan you've ever had – and that's saying something - there's just no way it is feasible. The show is nearly over, and it's not live. It's on a delay."

"We can …"

"Sit in traffic for hours?"

"If we leave now …"

"In my _pajamas_, Kurt?"

"Like it matters what you're wearing!"

"It most certainly does!" Rachel argued back, pointing to the television screen where Noah had joined Sam on the couch opposite the host. His face was clearly distressed and his tone wasn't how she'd remembered it, but he looked as good as (if not better than) ever. "_That_ man does _not_ end up with someone like me."

"You're gorgeous!" Blaine volleyed back.

"You can change into something in the car!" Kurt added.

And then Noah's voice came through the television. "A girl like that would never go for a guy like me."

Rachel blinked in surprise, her eyes bulging a little as she faced the bright light of the small screen. The host had moved on to discussing Sam's album more and the upcoming show in a few days, but Rachel stayed focused on Noah's face. It remained unchanging, a hint of melancholy hiding under the façade of practiced ambivalence. Six months ago at the record store, she'd told him that she couldn't be with someone who put her on a pedestal, but that's not what he was doing.

That's what _she _was doing.

For all her claims that Quinn wasn't the issue, there was clearly still some insecurity when it came to the blonde. Rachel had finally learned to appreciate the differences between their physical appearances and knew every man had his own preferences, but there was still the part of her that envied Quinn. The blonde wasn't just beautiful, but she exuded the confidence that came with that acknowledgement. Rachel, on the other hand, still couldn't shake the feeling of needing to look behind her if she caught the eye of someone looking longingly her way.

She'd never been the hot one – or the _super hot_ one. She'd never even felt that way … until Noah. Even at the end, when their relationship had developed far beyond the bedroom, he never shied away from making it perfectly clear how much he'd wanted her. Whether it was with a look across the room, his touch on her lower back (or inner thigh) or even a strangled sound seconds before she gave in to him, his desire for her was evident no matter where they were or who else they were with. He may have had a reputation for being a ladies' man, but when he was with her, his attention never strayed.

"The defense rests," Blaine joked, throwing both Kurt and Rachel their coats. "Let's go."

Rachel exhaled a shaky breath, her eyes moving off Blaine's and back to the television. The host was reminding people of Sam's album's release date before he said goodbye. Credits for the show ran over the screen, but Rachel honed in on Noah's easy expression. His smile (even the fake one) made her heart race more than it already was and she'd wondered how she'd gone so long without that feeling. Why had she'd held onto the pain for so long without realizing all it would take to make everything better was him?

"Kurt," Rachel said, her eyes hard but a smile slowly creeping onto her face as she swung her coat over her shoulders. "Hurry up and pick something tasteful." She laughed out loud when he practically fell over himself running toward the guest room, a cloud of smoke in the shape of Kurt practically forming he'd left so quickly. She'd barely had time to grab her purse and retrieve her phone from inside before he was back and ready to go.

"The car's ready," Blaine announced from the doorway, propping the exit open with one hand while his cellphone was perched in the other.

"Good." Rachel nodded her head, clicking away on her own mobile device. "I've got a plan."

The last sound the apartment heard before the door closed and the trio left to right all the wrongs was the loud, high-pitched squeal Kurt let out in glee.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** I literally JUST finished this, but I figured you guys would want to read it now instead of waiting for me to run through it all to check for grammar and such. I'm sure there is a typo or two, but you guys can handle that, right? And, considering it is longer than usual, I should get extra credit! :D

Thanks in advance, and I'd love to know what you think (good and bad, as always!).

* * *

Puck managed to smile politely at the hotel concierge even though what he really wanted to do was throw the small plastic card back in the fat guy's worthless face and tell him to go fuck himself. He was borderline tired enough to do it, but instead he went with a lame joke about a hand cramp and trudged toward where he'd last seen Sam. The blond, who Puck _could _call names and insult at will, was carelessly lounging on one of the lobby sofas, his head resting against a soft pillow and his feet propped up on the arm of the couch on the opposite side.

"Yeah. Your life is just _shit_, isn't it?" Puck deadpanned, tossing the small keycard toward Sam and (not) trying to hit him in the face. He'd just spent the past thirty minutes getting Sam a new card after the dense blond admitted on the way into the hotel to not being able to find his. No big deal for normal people, but it was a pain in the ass to get a new card for celebrities because of all the security. "How'd you even lose your card?"

Sam shrugged, slowly standing and then stretching for a while before finally following Puck toward the elevators. Inconspicuously, he checked the clock hanging nearby. After lagging around the studio and then signing autographs for people waiting outside, Sam was pretty sure he'd wasted enough time. It was out of his hands now.

"One of those crazy fangirls probably pocketed ya when you were signin' her tits or whatever." Puck sighed, resting heavily against the back of the elevator. His eyes drooped closed for a bit longer than he'd meant them to, Puck having to force them back open. "She's probably in your room right now, just waiting to kill ya."

"Someone waiting in the room doesn't have to be a bad thing," Sam stated absently, inhaling sharply before continuing, "I mean, like … um. If someone was waiting for me, they'd probably just wanna do it or whatever."

Puck furrowed his eyebrows, slowly tilting his head to better gauge his friend - and his odd behavior. "What's going on with you?"

"Me?" Sam asked immediately. "Nothing."

"Sure." Puck rolled his eyes, finally closing them when he noticed they'd only made it halfway up toward their floor. "Whatever. I'm too tired to care. Just keep it quiet 'cause I don't want to have to deal with it tomorrow morning."

"Nothing's going on," Sam repeated anxiously.

Puck pried one eye open, looking suspiciously at the blond. "Nothing? You disappeared for like twenty minutes after the show. I couldn't find you _or_ that actress chick who'd wanted to sit on your lap, and I really don't want to find out on the Internet that she ended up sitting on your face."

Sam made a face, finally rolling his eyes. "If that were the case, then _Santana_ would be the one waiting in my room to kill me."

Puck chuckled lowly, conceding to that and peeling himself from the elevator wall once the doors started to open on their floor. There was no such thing as reserving a floor in an upscale New York City hotel, even for a second-rising popstar. However, Puck had managed to score each of them a nice suite for their stay. The rooms were adjoining, too, which was always beneficial in case someone got wind of where Sam was staying. Plus, the hotels usually gave Sam a lot of nice swag but gave Puck diddly squat. Adjoining rooms meant easier access for Puck when he went into the blond's room for looting purposes.

"Well," Puck began as he passed Sam's door toward his own. "Good luck, then."

"You, too." Sam grinned widely, swiping his new key card into the slot and opening the door a crack before looking back at his friend. "Have fun."

Puck just gave Sam yet another look that was meant to question the blond's sanity before he turned the doorknob and used his shoulder to help open the door. He was still shaking his head a little while he added the _Do Not Disturb _sign to the handle just before the large piece of metal shut with a loud click. Puck's hand roamed the side wall absently for the light switch, but suddenly he realized the room was already illuminated. Between his exhaustion and confusion, it took him a minute to recognize the bedside light in the room was on … and he hadn't turned it on.

"Sup, Puckerman?"

Puck couldn't have moved even if he'd wanted to. And, with Rachel Berry sitting on his hotel bed looking better than he remembered, he _wanted_ to. He wanted to replay that first night position for position, but he couldn't get the signal from his brain to his feet when his mind was racing with memories. Memories mostly of that night, and how stupid he'd been. In hindsight he was kind of disgusted with himself at how he'd basically shown up at her place for sex. But now, looking at her, he just felt dumb for thinking that's all it would have been. She was a goddess and he should have known immediately that he was going to fall in love with her.

Although, to be fair, Rachel wasn't completely turning the tables on him. She wasn't nearly as casual as he'd been that night; she talked the talk, but her voice had quivered enough that he could tell she was nervous. Her posture was just a little too perfect and her hands sat awkwardly on the bedspread. It had been six months since he'd seen her in the flesh, but it was almost comforting to know that he might never forget how to read her (which was somewhat ironic since he might have cursed the very notion just a minute before).

"Sam let me in," she confessed softly, going back to biting her bottom lip as soon as the words were out. He looked better in person than he had on the television, which was saying something. And, if that weren't making her nervous enough, his silence certainly was accomplishing the task. He hadn't even cracked a smile at her attempt to transport back to their first time, and that really had been Rachel's only icebreaker. She'd spent a lot of time texting Sam and getting him to meet her quickly and somewhere where no one would notice the two of them conversing and then getting into Puck's room from Sam's. She hadn't left herself a lot of time to think about her next move.

"I'm in town, staying with Kurt."

Rachel frowned further, thinking that, too, wasn't enough explanation for her sudden appearance. That made it sound like she was just in the neighborhood and stopped by to say hello. She hadn't spent a lot of time preparing a speech or anything, but it was definitely more than just her wanting to say hi. It was about telling him why she'd pushed him away. It was about telling him how proud she was about his writing. It was about telling him how badly she'd missed him and how sorry she was for causing both of them so much unnecessary pain.

It wasn't about saying hello; it was about her never wanting to say goodbye.

"I heard the song."

Puck was hit with yet another wave (if it could even be called that after such short statements) of information. He'd only just gotten over the shock of seeing her and putting all the pieces together regarding how she'd appeared; Sam was a terrible liar and he'd known something was up with the blond, but Puck had never considered … this. Legit, he would have picked Sam cheating on Santana with some random whore before Puck would have ever expected Rachel to show up in his hotel room.

"Do you want me to leave?"

His eyes snapped open wide, his breath catching in his throat while his head involuntarily started to shake. "No," he rushed out, finally moving from his statue-like stance to drop the bag he'd been carrying beside the wall. He took a few steps closer to her, but stopped short of getting too close - using his physical distance as somewhat of an emotional buffer. "Sorry."

"That's my line." Rachel smiled softly, breathing a little easier now that he'd given her some indication that she wasn't completely unwanted.

She'd sworn to herself that it was important they talked and were honest and clear with one another, but there was still a part of her that had hoped for a much different interaction. She'd been able to picture many scenarios for this moment while sitting on the bed waiting for him, and considering it was Noah, many of them forgoed the deep conversation for a much more tactile experience. His timid behavior made her even more anxious than she already had been, the haunted echoes of fear whispering in the back of her mind that perhaps it was too late to mend what had been broken between them.

"Was it?" He asked skeptically, trying to keep the hope out of his tone even though he took her light teasing as invitation enough to draw even closer. He was still far enough away that he couldn't reach out and touch her nor would she have to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes, but he was only a few feet away from being able to sit next to her on the bed. For all intents and purposes, that was the danger zone.

"Yes." Rachel's eyes watered at such a simple statement, and she groaned at her own hypersensitivity. Hesitantly she motioned for him to join her at the foot of the bed, scooting over an inch or so to appear nonchalant about the gesture. In reality, though, she needed him closer. She had a tendency to touch people as she spoke to them, but it was more than that. While his appearance had made her nervous, his proximity had always managed to ease her mind.

She felt better with him near.

"I came here to apologize, about a multitude of things." She bit her lip, still unsure where to begin but just diving in. "Shouldn't have said what I'd said."

Puck snorted out a laugh. "Now you're stealin' _my_ line." His eyes crinkled a little as he considered the sentence again. "Although, I guess mine was technically that I _shoulda_ said what I _didn't_."

"After everything that happened," she continued, completely brushing past his interjection. "Obviously I was hurt. I spent so much time and effort thinking I knew this side of you that no one else did, and then … I thought it was just one of my famous delusions. Ironically enough, I've been told I put people on a pedestal and, after everything, I let myself believe that I'd just done it again with you. But …" Rachel inhaled deeply, almost gasping for air as the pent-up confession rushed out. "Honestly, my perception of who you are is irrelevant at this point." Rachel lifted her chin, focusing her gaze on him even more so than before. "What I've realized is that I don't know who _I am_ anymore without you."

Rachel could feel her heartbeat in her ears, swore he could hear it, too. His tone and behavior during the interview had seemed obvious in terms of his lingering feelings for her, but she couldn't be sure. Although, she'd hope Sam wouldn't have allowed her to proceed with her plan if he didn't think she had a chance. She licked her suddenly dry lips, finally asking, "Wh-what do you mean you should have said what you didn't?"

"At the record store," Puck forced out, still somewhat befuddled by everything that Rachel had said. His heart felt like a hummingbird that had swallowed lead, managing to hammer frantically while sitting somewhere low in his lap. The accidental-but-completely-welcome touch of Rachel's thigh pressing against his as she shifted on the bed jolted him into action, though. "I shouldn'ta left. Not 'cause we coulda been friends - s'fuckin' bullshit, and ya know it - but because I shoulda fought harder."

It was almost embarrassing to admit, especially since she'd been the one courageous enough to be the reason they were sitting together to begin with. Puck came from a background where he'd always just taken what he'd wanted, usually because he knew no one was going to give it to him. He'd fought for everything that truly mattered to him, and he still wasn't quite sure why he hadn't put the same amount of effort into his relationship with Rachel.

There had been a few brief moments when he'd convinced himself that it was all for the best - that he was better off - but those moments quickly recoiled under the truth: He was scared. Scared of another rejection, but also scared of the alternative. Puck was nearly thirty years old, and yet love was a rather new concept for him. He knew that's what he felt for Rachel, but did she deserve someone who was still navigating what that really meant? Just because he loved her didn't mean he wanted to have those big conversations (_like the one they were currently having_) or that he'd ever pick cuddling over sex. He was never going to be the guy who cared about getting to know her friends or who remembered her favorite color or flower or something stupid like that.

But, then again, he had changed a lot since knowing Rachel, and it hadn't really even been conscious, let alone scary. Without asking or manipulating or perhaps even meaning to, she'd managed to bring out the best in him. There was something in the trust in her eyes or the dependency in her touch that made him feel stronger and more capable than he'd ever been, and it was those traits that propelled him to do those things that he would have previously considered unfathomable (monogamy, for one). The bottom line was being with Rachel had never been hard. It would no doubt take a lot of work for their relationship to last, but everything between them had always been pretty effortless.

"I shouldn'ta told ya that I missed you," Puck stated matter-of-factly, pausing for only a second before he said, "I shoulda told ya that I loved you."

"Do you?" Rachel asked breathlessly, sneaking a glance at him through her eyelashes. "Still, I mean."

Each of their hearts stopped, hers from a lack of oxygen and his to mimic the quietness of everything else. For all the demons that had been wrestling inside his head for the past few months and even minutes, at that moment everything was silent. All the doubts and insecurities and even fear hushed. It was like time had suspended, waiting just as anxiously for his answer as Rachel. But in that moment where it seemed like they were the only two people in the world, words didn't seem like enough. Besides, Puck had always felt more comfortable expressing himself with actions.

So he kissed her.

Rachel sighed at the contact, too caught up in the feel of his lips on hers again to even realize that the embrace was his way of answering her. She'd gone so long without not just feeling the intoxicating combination of his soft lips and hard body but without feeling the rush of emotions that coursed through her whenever they were together. It was a strange blend of love and power that she used to only be able to find on the stage paired with an intense desire and femininity. Noah made her feel wanted, not necessarily for acting like a wanton or for doing anything particularly special, but just because he liked her. He _loved_ her.

Puck groaned when he felt Rachel's hand curl around his neck, her fingers toying around near his hairline while her thumb stoked much too close to his pulse point. It wasn't that he thought she was going to kill him - at least not by choking him. Instead, it was the fire of her touch that worried him, the way his skin seemed to absorb it and how his blood felt like it started to boil as it rushed through his veins. His need for her had been nearly impossible to squelch before, but adding six months of no contact suddenly turned the slow burn closer to internal combustion.

Rachel opened her mouth on a hiccup of pleasure, Puck's tongue quick to enter the moist cavern - causing a moan of his own. She slid her tongue against his as tantalizingly as she could with what little brain function she felt was left, rediscovering how he tasted as she delved in again. She let tip of her tongue run across the roof of his mouth, finally exiting only to nibble at his lips a little before moving to turn her head the other way and start the process all over again.

As the embrace grew more passionate, Rachel found herself feeling almost weak. She refused to waste even a second of time breaking away from the kiss to breathe, relying on her incredible lung capacity and the steady influx of air inhaled through her nose. But she was losing herself in him, in the moment. They hadn't done anything but kiss - his hands had yet to touch her! - and yet she couldn't keep up. So she surrendered any facade of dominance she might have been trying to gain by dueling her tongue with his, allowing him to set the pace. She gave herself over to him willingly so could completely focus on how she was feeling.

She wasn't sure how long they remained that way, just kissing one another like they were two teenagers who were stealing moments together. It wasn't until her back hit the mattress did she realize they'd started to move away from the foot of the bed. And she didn't notice because she thought they were moving too fast, but rather because it wasn't until then did Noah move his left hand to hold his weight while his right took residence high on her thigh. The area was covered with a pair of skinny jeans that she'd changed into in the car ride over, but he might as well have reached inside and touched her soul considering the amount of emotions the simple gesture caused.

"Noah," she whined involuntarily.

The sound of her voice _did_ things to him. But the sound of his name coming from her lips, especially strangled and fueled with desire, made him want to do things to her. And it wasn't like that wasn't where all this was leading. That much obvious. But, despite the six months apart and how they certainly had to account for all that lost time, Puck didn't want to rush anything. There was something about the moment, maybe even because of the wait, that made him want to take his time. He wanted to re-learn all those little things that had taken him a few times to figure out - like how the back of her knees flushed when she got excited or the pitch of her voice when she came. If they really did have forever, then there was no urgency. He could savor the moment, her.

Lazily, he let his fingertips graze across the sliver of skin that had become exposed when her shirt rode up as they'd moved further up the bed. He watched the way her chest rose and fell heavily, thinking back to that first time and how he'd teased her. He could have done it again, if only because he liked the sparkle in her eye she got at the memory, but it hadn't felt appropriate. He'd never really made a designation between fucking or having sex or making love (the way girls do), but he could recognize the importance of this moment. It went beyond makeup sex and seemed to transcend any previous sexual experience, for both of them.

Rachel's eyes fluttered open the second she felt his lips leave hers, her vision hazy at best as she watched him slide down her petite frame. She swallowed large gulps of air while her eyes followed his descent, some of the oxygen leaving in a rush when his tongue dipped into her bellybutton, his right hand trailing down the sensitive underside of her thigh, knee and calf. She'd missed his attention to detail, the way he explored every inch of her body. Each time he'd managed to find a new erogenous zone, though in hindsight she guessed that had more to do with her body's reaction to him (and less just her body). He was the only one who could make her shiver despite the way his touch scorched each newly exposed area of skin.

Puck legit growled when Rachel's nail started to scratch their way up his bare torso, her hands lost under the fabric of his shirt but remembering the once familiar territory well. He'd only just returned to her lips after finally ridding her of the tight (albeit sexy) jeans she'd been wearing, their lips once again seemingly fused together. Her hands clawed through the peaks and valleys of his clenched abs, ghosting over his nipples teasingly before forging back and over his shoulder blades into the contours of his lower back. Then, with one hand remaining perched at his side under his ribcage, the other continued a much more dangerous trek.

Just the sound of his zipper falling at her will aroused him, Puck releasing her lips on a sigh as his head drooped to her shoulder. The weight he'd been doing his best to keep off of her buckled, pressing heavily against her and he ground into her a little harder than he meant to. The action managed to force her hand away from risky areas, but it completely negated the purpose. The sight of her eyes slamming shut and her mouth dropping open, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out to wet her suddenly dry lips, did just as much damage.

"Don't," she begged, hooking her one hand into the pocket of his jeans while the other pressed tightly against the taut skin of his torso. Her eyes opened slowly, unsteadily, and she lifted her shoulder emptily at his questioning gaze. "I've missed it."

Puck managed a soft smile, nodding his head minisculely before returning his lips to hers. The kisses before were by no means crazed or hurried, but her words had somehow slowed the pace even more. The embrace was languid, filled with soft nips and tender caresses. Even the removal of their clothing was much more gentle than he was used to, both their eyes locked and unwavering even as they moved to finally connect their bodies and their lips molded together once more. Everything about their encounter thus far had been a first for Puck, and yet her words seemed to fit his thoughts perfectly.

He'd missed this.


	20. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Here it is. The Epilogue. I can't tell you guys how much I appreciate all the support and understanding, not just after last week but during the whole story. I'm probably not going to tackle another multichapter fic for awhile (but then I always say that, don't I?), but this one has been so much fun and I loved sharing it with y'all and hearing what you thought about it. So, thank you very much, and I hope you do the same (enjoy and review) for this last part.

* * *

Puck craned his neck back over the plush chair, trying to peek around the halfway-shut bedroom door down the hallway and catch a glimpse of Rachel through the reflection in the floor mirror in his line of vision. He could hear her and Kurt bickering back and forth about outfit selections and hairstyles even from his spot in the living room. Although funny, the only real reason his interest had piqued was because Rachel had posed the question, "This one or this one?" Anytime a woman said something close to that in reference to clothing, it meant she was likely not fully clothed.

Unfortunately for Puck, he couldn't tell either way.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you've seen her naked enough the last few days," Blaine pointed out with a grin, flipping the channel from the football bowl game to the college basketball game they'd been watching before the commercial.

Puck smirked. "No such thing," he replied vaguely.

Puck didn't mind being candid and Blaine seemed chill enough, but he was also gay and Puck really didn't want the conversation to go in _that_ direction. He was cool with the whole homo thing, but at a reasonable distance from his body and psyche. For instance, it was _not_ cool earlier when Kurt had tried to put a belt on him. That was way too close to his junk for his comfort - even if Kurt had been right; the blinged out belt buckle did kind of look badass.

"Did you change the channel again?" Kurt huffed as he entered the living room. He was just about finished getting dressed, but he hadn't done his hair yet. "I thought we were watching football. I don't like basketball."

"Surprised ya know the difference," Puck mumbled.

"I'll have you know I was the star kicker for our high school football team during my sophomore year," Kurt gloated, his smile fading when his gaze moved from Blaine's adoring face to focus on Puck's mocking yawn. He smiled tensely. "Have I mentioned how lovely it is to have you back in our lives?"

"Likewise," Puck called toward Kurt's retreating form. The two would never be friends, but they'd silently agreed to bury the hatchet - as best as they could considering their two very different personalities. It was too easy to pick on Kurt, for a number of reasons, and he had plenty of moments of holier-than-thou bullshit that Puck couldn't tolerate, but at the end of the day Puck respected him. He liked that Rachel had people in her life that cared for her the way Kurt obvious did. In fact, their friendship was a lot like his and Sam's; like Kurt, Puck would have no problem throwing down for his boy if the need arose.

"Finn's here!" Blaine announced as he stood up from the couch to answer the door, yelling mostly as a pseudo-timer for the two people still scrambling to get ready.

"Hey," Finn greeted once the door opened, stepping inside and immediately laughing at the commotion that could be heard to the side of the main area. "Still not ready?"

"You know Kurt," Blaine answered absently.

"And Rachel," Finn added, his smile only fading slightly as he nodded his head toward Puck in greeting. Puck and Rachel hadn't been back together for too long - and most of those days were spent locked away in his hotel room - but word of their reunion had clearly spread. Not surprising since Kurt was a blabbermouth, but Puck couldn't hate on the guy too much considering he'd also been the one to stick up for Puck in terms of the whole Quinn thing. It was probably the only reason he and Finn could be in the same room together without a fight breaking out.

"Last show and you couldn't even put on a tie," Blaine joked, closing the front door and leading Finn to the living room. The tall drummer was sporting a pair of gray slacks with a plain white button down and a black cardigan over top. The outfit wasn't entirely casual, but compared to Blaine's traditional suit - though modern when paired with the patterned shirt - Finn felt underdressed.

"Speaking of tie," Finn looked Blaine up and down, a smile creasing onto his face, "what the hell? No bow tie?"

"Don't worry." Blaine grinned, pulling a pair of plastic, neon pink sunglasses out of the inside pocket of his suit coat and making a spectacle of putting them on. "I've got it covered."

"I can't believe I'm married to you," Kurt deadpanned, re-entering the living room with his hair finished and completely dressed. If Finn was underdressed, then Kurt was overdressed. He was wearing a three-piece charcoal suit with a deep red shirt underneath that complemented the red stripe in Blaine's shirt, his hair styled up into a faux-hawk. "And related to you."

"Only by marriage," Finn pointed out, his teasing smile falling off his face as soon as he turned toward the sound of clicking heels in the hallway. "Wow."

"Good, fuck." Puck stood from the chair slowly, trying not to trip over his tongue as he did so. Purposefully, he blocked Finn's view of Rachel as he drew closer; they might not be throwing punches at one another, but Puck didn't trust Finn anymore than the tall drummer probably trusted Puck. He'd had feelings for Rachel since he was in high school and they clearly hadn't gone away yet, so Puck felt pretty good about keeping a buffer between them, especially when Rachel was dressed to kill. Honestly, he didn't think anything could top the dress from her album release party, but this one didn't just have cutouts at both sides but also one across the chest that highlighted her cleavage. Hands down (his pants) win. Plus, the white dress made her bronze skin look even better, and her long, dark hair was done in breezy waves that wasn't exactly sex hair but close enough that he couldn't stop fantasizing about how to change that.

Rachel had heard Finn's heated sentiment as well as Kurt and Blaine's whistles, but she couldn't stop herself from staring solely at Noah. For one, he looked incredible; he was wearing dressy black pants and a satin black vest over a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but there were touches of him in the loosened tie and the black Converse shoes. But, more importantly, the way he seemed almost stunned at her appearance made _her_ feel incredible. The fact that he could make her feel like the sexiest woman alive even when she was fully clothed really just made her not want to be.

"You're not so bad yourself," she practically purred, her fingers toying with the edges of his vest while his explored the back of her dress. Rachel had kept her makeup on the minimalistic side, opting for a nude gloss on her lips so she wouldn't have to worry about the color smearing when her and Noah kissed. She'd also worn a subtle pink blush, which she hoped would help her when he inevitably said or did something to make her skin flush.

"OK, save it for the red carpet. Let's go."

Despite the fact that he'd been just as late at getting ready as Rachel, Kurt broke the spell between the couple. In a flash, he ushered everyone out of the loft apartment and toward the waiting car. They'd decided to take one car since they were all going to the same place, but Rachel suddenly wished she'd opted for her own car so she can be with Noah privately. Actually, in hindsight, she wished she would have cancelled on her best friend and gotten ready for tonight's event at the hotel with Noah. They would have been just as tardy - if not completely absent - but at least it would have been because they spent more time getting dirty in the shower than clean instead of because Kurt arguing with her about wearing her hair down or up for twenty minutes.

"Ya look good," Puck reiterated quietly once everyone was situated in the back and the limo started toward the event. "Legit, you're lucky there's three other people back here."

Rachel smiled coyly, pressing her thigh hotly against his. She bit her lip when he leaned in closer, her eyes fluttering closed a little as she whispered, "Depends on your definition of luck."

Puck growled lowly, his fingertips indenting the edges around her knee where his hand had landed in his attempt to find a safe spot. It wasn't that he cared what the other three in the car would think, but he didn't want to draw too much attention to them, either; Kurt, Finn and Blaine were currently talking about the setlist and plans for the after party, and Puck knew it wasn't going to take long to get to the event. This was really the only chance he had with Rachel before the press would swarm them. And, even though she hadn't said so yet, Puck knew she was worried about the media attention to their relationship.

"I'd consider it lucky if this thing split in two and our half went back to the hotel."

Rachel giggled humorlessly, placing a gentle kiss in the crook of his neck before resting her head against his shoulder. She loved going out and she loved New Year's Eve in New York City, but Noah's idea was quite appealing. She was fairly certain she'd never tire of nights alone just her and Noah (spent in any capacity), but considering the venue, Rachel was less excited about what lied ahead for them this evening.

"We're almost there!" Kurt announced merrily, smiling across the limo at Rachel. "You ready to come out of hiding, Lady Love."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Easy, tiger."

Rachel instantly eased at Puck's gentle (teasing) tone, his light kiss to her temple further diffusing her defensiveness. She'd known Kurt didn't mean anything from his comment, but she was already nervous about what the press would think once she and Noah emerged together from the car. She'd never denied anything about their prior relationship after everything that had happened, but now she almost felt embarrassed that they were going to be seen together. It was as if they were going to be caught in a lie, which made even less sense considering this time was more real than before.

"I'm simply not prepared to answer a million questions regarding my marital status," she finally stated, though Noah was the only one left to hear as Kurt and Blaine and then Finn had already exited the car.

"Ya don't gotta say anything." Puck winked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I can make it obvious."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh, though she did manage to roll her eyes before playfully pushing him out of the car. She took a deep breath and waited for his extended hand before exiting the car. She was instantly blinded by a thousand flashes and her ears rung from the low dull of her name being repeated again and again. She tensed immediately, but then Noah draped his arm loosely around her, and it was as if all her nerves and anxiousness seemed to disappear. He guided her across the red carpet, letting her shine for photographers but still managing to almost protect her as they answered questions together. Noah had a way of letting those little comments that might have made her squirm roll down his back, spinning the answer so effortlessly that she'd fallen in love with him all over again by the time they'd finished.

"Daaaaaammn." Santana drew out her appreciation until she crossed the short threshold between where she was standing and where Rachel and Puck had just entered the building. "Ya sure make me miss tacos, Berry." The Latina glared at Puck. "I'd rather die than have a threeway with you, though."

"Backatcha, sweets."

Rachel rolled her eyes at their playful banter. It would be confusing to most to figure out how two people who barely knew each other could seem so comfortable together, but knowing both of them Rachel understood completely. They were one in the same, which might have made her nervous or even jealous when she was younger. However, she'd learned that people too similar rarely worked out romantically, so their connection was oddly comforting.

"Fairy Dust and the rest of them went toward the back," Santana mentioned, seeing Rachel's eyes veer left and right in a subtle search attempt. "I can't believe we had to get here so early 'cause of the stupid show," she pouted. "I like to make an entrance."

"I'm sure you and Sam arriving together caused quite a flurry of commotion," Rachel reasoned. While neither Santana nor Sam were denying their relationship, between his promotional touring and her international shows, tonight's event was their first public appearance. Apparently there were bets on whose relationship outing would earn the most media attention; Rachel didn't want the spotlight on her in this scenario, but she'd pick her and Noah if she were of the gambling mind. "If not, your dress certainly did."

Santana grinned like a Cheshire cat, spinning in presentation despite the fact that the blue-to-white ombre dress clung to her body like a second skin. The asymmetrical, one-shoulder neckline worked well with her sleek parted hair, though, and the strappy sandals she'd paired with it took away some of the dramatics. "There are probably more photographers now, though. I should leave and come back."

"Yeah," Sam snorted out, appearing out of nowhere. "More pictures. Good idea." He shrugged emptily. "I still have most my vision, so yeah."

Rachel giggled lightly at Sam's teasing, leaning in to accept his kiss on the cheek (and returning one on his opposite cheek). "You look quite dashing."

"I picked it out," Santana stated immediately.

"Gotta change out of it for the set anyway. So, whatever." Sam shrugged, looking down at the navy suit. There was a lighter blue shirt underneath, unbuttoned at the top. The pair looked good standing next to one another, though Rachel suddenly realized that her white ensemble next to Noah's mostly black (with a little white) outfit also matched nicely. "Saw Kurt's hair, though. Bring back memories, dude?"

"Shut up," Puck chuckled. "That cut was badass."

"It was quite sexy," Rachel agreed hotly, curling her arms around one of Noah's. When she was met with three pairs of questioning eyes, she blushed. "I saw pictures after ..."

"Broadway Falls for Bad Boy," Santana interrupted. "I remember that one." She glared again at Puck. "Just 'cause you're tappin' my girl again doesn't mean ya gotta give hairstyle tips to her gay bestie."

"Santana," Rachel interjected before Noah could comment, "I thought you were going to be nice to Kurt from now on."

"No, I said he should be nice to _me_." Santana rolled her eyes, leaving abruptly to presumably walk the red carpet again.

After the truth about Santana's lie had come to light and the chaos of everything had died down, Rachel had spoken to Kurt about the prolonged animosity between the two of them. They hadn't gotten along as well as she and Santana when they were all in college, but they had at least been civil before things had ended between Santana and Finn. Now that Kurt knew Santana had actually been protecting Finn, Rachel thought the two might be able to get closer to friends. Apparently not.

"We should go, too," Sam advised, walking back toward the backstage area so Puck and Rachel could have a little time alone before the show started.

"I just gotta stay back there 'til they start, 'kay?"

Rachel nodded, unable to frown at the thought of him leaving as Noah's lips captured her own. She sighed into the embrace, her body humming at the way his arms wrapped around her lithe frame and pulled her close. His fingertips danced across the patches of exposed skin at her sides, and she shivered in response. Her hands cradled his face in an effort to prolong the kiss, but eventually the two parted with ragged breath. When Rachel opened her eyes, Noah was smirking widely.

"Somethin's obvious now."

She didn't dare look down, her eyes set on him in mock sternness until he finally turned away once he'd backtracked to where Sam had stopped to wait for him. Once the boys were out of sight, Rachel headed toward the bar, still shaking her head in amusement. With a drink in hand, she started to make her rounds with a few key reporters. To Sam's point, she still felt partially blinded from the camera flashes, and it was no surprise to Rachel that they had plenty more questions to go along with those pictures. Before she knew it, Blaine and the Warblers and Sam were starting their first song.

_I kn-kn-know a girl, she gets what she wants all the time_

'_Cause she's fine_

_But for an angel she's a hot, hot mess_

_Make you so blind_

_But you don't mind_

_*s*_

'_Cause she's an uptown, get-around, anything-goes girl, girl_

_She's a hardcore, candy-store, gimmie-some-more girl, girl_

_*s*_

_She'll make you take her to the club, but then she leaves with her friends_

_She likes to stay late at the party, 'cause the fun never ends_

_And all her clothes are on the floor and all your records are scratched_

_She's like a one-way ticket 'cause you can't come back_

_*s*_

_Saying yeah … you want her, but she's so mean_

_(You'll never let her go. Why don't you let her go?)_

_Yeah … you want her, but she's so mean_

_(You'll never let her go. Why don't you let her go?)_

"Do you think this is about me?"

Rachel turned her head toward Santana, trying to cover up her widening smile. "No. I'm sure it's completely fictional."

"Liar." The two girls laughed, but then Santana's expression suddenly grew serious. "I can't believe this is his last show. Look how happy he is."

Rachel frowned, too, her eyes diverting from the front of the stage to the back where Finn was rocking out on the drums. Even in high school when he'd been the lead on the Glee club, Rachel had always known Finn was more comfortable behind the drum set; she'd actually been the one to advise him to pursue instrumental music as opposed to performance arts, which he hadn't technically needed considering his connection with Blaine but would certainly come in handy now. Quinn and Finn had decided to work on the marriage for the kids' sakes, and the first condition Quinn had for Finn was devoting a little more time to his family and less to his career. Blaine and the rest of the band had been nothing but supportive about the decision, but everyone had mixed words with Finn at least once in the last six months; Rachel had been Kurt's ear several times in an effort to keep him from saying anything to ruin his relationship with his stepbrother.

"He'll be happy at home, too, with Rain and Hunter."

Santana sighed, conceding with an empty shrug. They both weren't particularly fond of Quinn, but they knew nothing would change; it hadn't since high school, after all. "Q did one thing right, compromising to Rain instead of Drizzle."

"Agreed," Rachel giggled, lifting up her shot glass to toast with Santana.

"Time out," Puck announced, clearing through the last of the crowd and stepping between the two women. "I ain't missin' another Berry body shot." Rachel rolled her eyes at him, swallowing the liquid and waving goodbye to Santana, who was pulled away by a few friends from the modeling industry. Ignoring the extra space made by the Latina's vacancy, Puck leaned even closer into Rachel, dipping his head down to speak into her ear. "Wanna practice our midnight kiss?"

Rachel's mouth fell open, the words fighting to come out as his lips swept across the sensitive skin below her ear. She could feel the tip of his tongue on the back outer shell, and then his teeth scrape lightly against the lobe. If there weren't hundreds of people around, she'd consider practicing more than just a kiss - right there at the bar. "Noah," she said instead, hoping the soft whine would pull him back into reality.

"S'okay, babe. Everyone's watchin' the show."

"They are performing quite well together," she pointed out, further trying to pry each of their attentions to something other than their desire. "It would probably be a very profitable tour."

"Only if we add a hot, leggy brunette," Puck stated, forgoing his seduction but not ready to dislodge from her completely. Instead, he curled around Rachel's back so she was pressed up against his chest and his arm was draped across her body so much that his hand could toy with the exposed skin at her opposite rib. He allowed her to rest the side of her head against his, speaking once again in her ear. "Ya think Katy Perry would be up for it, though?"

Rachel's mouth gaped open, her head falling back to his shoulder in an effort to glare at him. His laughter filtered through her body, though, forcing her disapproving scowl to give way to light amusement. "You'd be lucky to afford _me_ on such a tour."

"Even with music like this?" Puck asked as Sam and Blaine started the next verse of the second song they'd done together.

_You bring me to my knees_

_You make me testify_

_You can make a sinner change his way_

_Open up your gates 'cause I can't wait to see the light_

_And right there is where I wanna stay_

_*s*_

'_Cause your sex takes me to paradise_

_Yeah, your sex takes me to paradise_

_And it shows, yeah, yeah, yeah_

'_Cause you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven_

_For too long, for too long_

_Yeah you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven_

_For too long, for too long_

"Is this the song you helped write?"

"Well it wasn't the one about Santana."

Rachel giggled softly, finally turning in his embrace. "I'm very proud of you, Noah."

"Thanks," he choked out, still sometimes taken aback at how easily she said those words.

"And even though I'm quite happy that you've found a nice balance between your career and your passion for music, it would be a great honor if _we_ did a duet."

Puck couldn't help but smirk. "Sorry. It's loud in here." He pulled her closer, though there was barely an inch between them to begin with. "Did you say we should do it?"

"Noah," Rachel drew out her admonishment, letting both her hands fall from behind his neck to push him lightly at the chest. "Must you always resort to physicality?"

"Come on, babe." He winked. "I've never been good with words."

Rachel smirked just as deeply, shaking her head a little before uttering, "At least not the sweet kind."

* * *

**Author's Note #2:** The first song that was meant to be performed by Sam and Blaine (and the Warblers) was Matchbox 20's "She's So Mean". Still can't get it out of my head and refuse to think it wasn't written for Santana, basically. Haha. The second song, which Puck was supposed to help write, was "Locked Out of Heaven" by Bruno Mars. Not my songs. Don't sue.

**Author's Note #3:** I did a Google Images search for all the outfits mentioned, so they're all real and worn by the appropriate star. If you want a better visual of the attire mentioned, PM me and I'll send a link.

Oh, and, don't worry too much about this being the end. I won't completely fall off the face of the earth/board. I've got some oneshot ideas already brewing. :D


End file.
